


Eye of the Beholder

by HazelL



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Tomb Raider & Related Fandoms, Tomb Raider (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Butterfly Effect, Crossover, Drama & Romance, EagleRaider, F/F, Mention of past relationships, Modern Setting, Other Characters - Freeform, Slow Burn, This ship has a name now, Time Travel, Time Travelling Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-02-26 21:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 136,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18725359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelL/pseuds/HazelL
Summary: After an expedition to locate the sword of Damokles goes south, Lara is forced to team up with an elusive mercenary in her quest for answers. Kassandra finds herself at a crossroad, torn between her mission and wanting to right her wrongs.





	1. Chapitre Un

**Author's Note:**

> I think ‘my hand slipped’ kind of applies here. I didn’t mean to write this, but I recently finished Odyssey, and the whole Kassandra as an immortal being entranced me, I wanted to see more of it. I wish the game had given us more details about her life afterwards. Maybe it’ll happen in a future DLC, maybe not. 
> 
> In the meantime, I’m playing around with what we have. I imagine her doing what she’s always done, being a mercenary while completing her bigger mission. And why not work alongside resident archeologist, destroyer of all ruins, Lady Lara Croft?

 

 

She wouldn’t call her last big adventure a fiasco, but…

Well, it was close. End-of-the-world apocalyptically close. Trinity was gone, and yet, her trip to Peru had worked as a reminder that Lara had come very, very close to dying again. One time too many. After much pondering, she had stuffed all her possessions in a duffel bag and moved in Croft Manor, fully embracing the past she had tried to escape for so long. Winston, ever the professional, had welcomed her with all the courtesy of a majordomo, but the glint in his eyes and the way his wrinkled face stretched as he smiled at her were unmistakable.

“Welcome home, Lady Lara,” he had said.

She still flinched when he called her that, but it happened less often now. It took some getting used to, for both of them. Her mother’s room had become her own, her father’s office had gone through extensive changes, the stifling brown replaced by white paint. Relics and artifacts from her travels adorned the walls now, alongside the books her family had amassed through time. Winston learned to stop pestering her about cooking her own food and using the manor and its gardens as a climbing park when she wasn’t shooting arrows on targets dangling from century-old oaks. They resumed their weekly chess games like when she was a kid. He still won.

All in all, Lara had decided to (temporarily) put the brakes on hardcore adventuring for a bit, favoring small digs with no secret Order running after her. Archiving what she had already brought from her previous expeditions was taking most of her time when she was not writing articles and papers about them. It was nice. It felt good to be home, not to be running all the time.

Making it on her promise to be among the livings for a while, she had even worked up the courage to finally call Sam. It had taken time, but Lara had set her mind on properly apologizing and salvaging what remained of their friendship. When all her phone calls went ignored, Lara booked a ticket to the States and showed up at Sam’s doorstep, one brisk morning, looking just as guilty as she felt, under the flabbergasted gaze of her friend.

“I really care, Sam. I’m sorry I didn’t say it enough.”

 _You matter. You are family,_ she let the words hang in the air. _I don’t want to lose you, too._

Sam shook her head, looking to the side as silence stretched between them. When she finally looked back, her face was unreadable.

“You sure have a weird-ass way of showing it, Lara,” her eyes were glistering, yet the tears wouldn’t fall.

“I know.”

“Disappearing like that…”

“I know,” she had hunched over herself, looking down at her feet.

“Blowing up my phone after going MIA for years… I tried getting in contact with you. You ignored me.”

“I know,” Sam certainly knew where to poke her.

There was a long, weary sigh and then more awkward silence.

“So, I hear Jonah has a girlfriend now?” an olive branch.

Lara couldn’t help it, she snorted, looking up to see her friend _grinning._

“You don’t know half of it.”

…

They spoke at length, that day. Lara’s words riddled with apologies, Sam understood the reasons, but it didn’t mean she agreed with them. Yes, her line of work could be dangerous, and risky, Yamatai proved as much. But it didn’t warrant cutting herself off the rest of the world because she was afraid of putting the lives of those she held dear at risk. Trading loneliness for safety was never a solution. Still, they managed to piece their friendship back, found something that suited the both of them. Lara had a room ready for Sam every time she was in England for work, and the archaeologist never missed an occasion to drop by when digs or seminars sent her to the States.

This little masquerade of settling down and going slow went on for two years before the hitch came back.

It was nothing at first, little nonsensical crumbs of info here and there. A legendary sword with supernatural abilities, buried somewhere between Greece and Turkey. Rumors of Atlantis _(again)_. A far-fetched theory about immortals. A Zodiac Wheel of Time, a clairvoyant Eye. Lara tried, she really did try to ignore them all, despite the ever-growing hitch. A new adventure, another plunge into the unknown. Nothing to prove to anyone this time, no frantic search to chase the ghost of her father. Just her, and a new discovery. One that could possibly change the face of the world.

Tempting. Very.

The last straw came in the form of a seemingly innocuous e-mail sent by one of her former professors at UCL. A specialist of Ancient Greece with a fondness for the Olympic Games. He was cross-referencing all the winners ever since the Games’ creation and had come across an interesting tidbit: while Sparta’s champions had traditionally won the games, they had once sent a mercenary to compete on their behalf, which, for a nation that prided itself on raising warriors, was highly unusual. There had been no name, except for a vague description: An eagle-bearing _Misthios_.

Lara frowned at her screen. “Eagle Bearer,” she muttered.

Somehow, it kept popping up in her research. With a bit of digging, she had found that there were many tales of a certain mighty mercenary that had roamed Greece and the Aegean Sea two thousand and five hundred years ago. Some say that, like Theseus, he had defeated the legendary Minotaur under Knossos’s Palace, survived Medusa’s lethal gaze, even outwitted the Sphinx, and rode a flaming horse straight from the Underworld. All of that while lending his services to Sparta and Athens alike during the Peloponnesian War.

Lara smiled. Mighty indeed, a demigod among men. The Greeks certainly liked their hyperbole. “Bollocks,” she said out loud.

Winston cleared his throat, bowing his head slightly when she looked up. “Your lunch is ready, Lady Lara.”

She gave him an apologetic smile, rolling away from the desk to stand up and stretch. “Thank you, Winston,” sometimes, it was hard to forget she wasn’t alone anymore. Oh, he would never say anything out loud, Winston was all about that implicit scolding. Even at twenty-six, he still managed to make her feel like an eight-year-old with one disapproving look.

They walked silently to the kitchens; Lara’s thoughts kept circling back to that e-mail. The offer was too good to be true: a fully funded expedition to find the tomb of the mercenary who was said to be wielding the legendary sword she had read about. Her professor had been ecstatic, offering her a spot in his team. There would be a lot to do: dig, reference, and date everything, provided they actually find the burial site.

There was a catch. There had to be. The frown wouldn’t leave her face long after lunch, when she trained and even as she slept.        

* * *

“Here you go,” the waitress leaned over with a smile. “Straight out of the oven, though. So, be careful not to burn your tongue!”

Her chirpiness was infectious, Kassandra found herself smiling. “That would be unfortunate, indeed,” she winked.

They shared a look, a pink hue coloring the waitress’ cheeks when the words registered. “Aren’t you the charmer,” she swatted Kassandra’s shoulder with her hand.

“I do try my best,” no matter how long she had lived, or where she had traveled, the woman had never been able to get rid of her accent. It always had its little effect.

The middle-aged waitress poked her playfully again, “Oh, hush. Don’t let my husband hear you,” before giggling. “I’ll go get your water. Do you want more bread?”

Kassandra nodded. “Thank you.”

This establishment was the only one she had found in England that served a semi-decent moussaka. Their homemade bread dipped in olive oil was to die for, though she rarely indulged. It hit a little too close to home.

The waitress came back quickly with water and more bread before leaving her alone again. Of all she had seen, food was one of the few things that had evolved so drastically. Kassandra had hated cooking back then, a waste of precious time she could have spent tracking down her mother, Alexios, Cultists, or completing contracts. It took more than a thousand years for her to even entertain the idea of learning elaborate recipes that involved more than grilled (carbonized, really) meat with dried fruits. The Renaissance had been a good time to start.

It had turned into a hobby over time, to ward boredom when there were no Assassins or Templars (as the Cult liked to call themselves nowadays) to kill, no ancient artifact to steal from their greedy hands or to destroy, and no war to fight. Those were usually short reprieves, far in-between that left her alone with thoughts and memories of bygone times.

So, cooking was good. It prevented her from going stir-crazy, provided her with something else to do with her hands.

Some things hadn’t changed, and Kassandra was still in the mercenary business. It was certainly different now - wars weren’t fought on fields drenched in the blood of dead soldiers anymore - but it still paid, and it provided the perfect cover for her actual mission.

_Keeper of the Staff. Keeper of the Balance._

There was always someone looking to off an undercover Templar or an Assassin, after all. If she could make money out of it, then why refuse?

She blew on the fork, giving the still-hot food a careful swipe of her tongue to test the temperature.

 _Perfect_ , she smiled before digging in.

As tasty as it was, her lunch did not alleviate her mood. England’s weather never failed to make her sour, yet another reason why she avoided the country whenever possible. Traiding the Artic winds of Vladivostok for rainy, misty London was just the last straw. Kassandra would make sure her next job was somewhere warm. With a beach, maybe.

Beaches were nice.

Split’s beaches were _very_ nice. Or maybe Cape Town? Her last trip to South Africa was in 1993, things had certainly changed in twenty-plus years.

The buzzing of her phone drew her out of her musing. Kassandra grabbed it with a sigh.

_Through the window. Three o’clock._

“Right on cue,” Kassandra muttered, looking as a woman with a short bob of hair exited a building. She saw her look up, frown at the sky before making a run for it to the car parked nearby.

Her phone buzzed again.

_142 Abingdon Road. Surrey._

Kassandra grimaced. That was one hour away at best and with no traffic. In this rain, it would take longer. She hated cars; they were stifling and felt confined. Her phone buzzed.

_What’s with the long face?_

That jolted her, she quickly scanned the restaurant, observing the patrons and staff closely. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, they were all eating or talking. No nearby computers, none glued to a screen. She bit her lip, frowning a little.

 _Where are you,_ she hit sent.

The answer was quick: _Close ;)_

She had met a lot of frustrating people over the years but this one was a particular brand of annoying. The one who knew exactly how irritating they were. Kassandra took a long, steadying breath, her fist opening and closing several times.

_Look up._

When she lifted her head, Kassandra came face to face with the red dot of a surveillance camera blinking back at her. _Figures_ , she thought.

People like Nix were most efficient in the shadows, unsuspected. They could be halfway across the world, sipping a cocktail by a pool for all she knew. Or they could be a thirty-something year old man living with a mother blissfully unaware of her son’s shady activities.

Kassandra had amassed a small but capable network of contacts over time; hackers, mercenaries, killers for hire, black market sellers, informants… They weren’t friends, but they could be valuable assets for the right price. Nix was the only one with whom she was in semi-permanent contact, yet had never met. Her (very expensive) eyes through every hackable network. Still, they didn’t hold a candle next to Ikaros. Nobody would ever replace him. Nix was just the next best thing.

She squinted at the camera, unimpressed.

 _Payment?_ her phone buzzed again.

Seriously?

 _For what? Using Google?_ she typed back with a scoff. _You will get it once the job is done._

Hell, even she could have done it. What was it with the crooks of this century? Greedy vultures. Her phone remained silent. The image of a short, pudgy man sulking in his mother’s basement was oddly satisfying.

Kassandra sighed deeply and stood up to leave the restaurant. She was not going to strike until nightfall, but she wanted to have a look at the location. The drive there took longer than expected, the woman kept bobbing her leg up and down in the taxi, looking every bit as frustrated as she felt while the driver feigned not to notice. It was all she could do not to bolt out of the car as soon as they arrived.

“Fancy…” she stared at the Manor standing a little further away from the main road. Trees surrounded the property, the walls were high, flanked with threatening metal spikes. She couldn’t see the entrance of the Manor just yet, but there was a tall, ostensibly large black gateway with a hideous C emblazoned. That one she couldn’t have missed, even if she tried. 

It seemed the Crofts were of old money, and they sure liked to flaunt it. Kassandra tsked, walking around the property from a safe distance. She had not been here when they had first risen to political power and joined the House of Lords at the beginning of the eighteenth century, there had been much to do in Spain and then in the Middle East. Wars brewed everywhere, when it wasn’t torrential rains and harsh winters killing people by the thousands.

Kassandra had done everything she could, to no avail. She had stayed away from the northern part of America, a mistake that took centuries to correct. The war between Templars and Assassins had been fierce, laced with personal vengeance. She had overlooked Connor’s quest for retribution at the time and had missed one of the apples of Eden as a consequence. The delicate scale she had been fighting to keep had almost tipped. The Assassins had come close to being extinct because of her oversight, she would not allow this to happen again.

Which is why she was under the rain, staring at Croft Manor. A rich family with a foot in politics was perfect fodder for the Templars. Kassandra knew they had been approached a couple of centuries ago. There had been nothing ever since, just a blip on her radar, but the latest heir’s recent discoveries and tendency to magically turn up where ancient artifacts (Isu or not) were last seen was teetering on bothersome.

What tipped it was when Lara began sniffing around _her_ past _._ It was obvious to Kassandra that she had no idea what she was looking for, her research was scattered, little bits here and there, the Olympic Games – damn that dumb idiot of Testikles. Who trips on their own feet? –  things that were too far-fetched to be true (even if they were), Lara wouldn’t be able to link her back to them. Kassandra had made sure of it.

Then again… the archeologist had a knack for uncovering long-lost islands and cities, maybe it extended to long-lost mercenaries with unnatural lifespans?

“Hopefully not,” she said out loud, approaching the property as her phone buzzed with another of Nix’s messages:

_No surveillance camera within or out of the Mansion. I’m blind. She’s working on her computer right now. Her friend is there too._

A picture was attached to the text, a webcam photo of a young woman staring intently at her screen while biting her lip.

“She’s pretty,” Kassandra blurted, realizing too late what she had said out loud. The answer was prompt.

_Thought so too. Your type?_

An obnoxious emoji sticking its tongue out accompanied the text. She grunted at her phone when it buzzed again.

_UCL Archery Club member, former gymnast with bouldering as a hobby. Her fingers made of steel AND she’s flexible._

“Stop it,” she said, knowing full well Nix was listening through the microphone of her device.

Another text filled with winking faces and emojis that left no room for misunderstanding answered her.

“I swear, Nix. I will find you, and I will send you to the Underworld if you keep this up. I don’t care how much time it takes,” she had plenty of it.

Kassandra didn’t need a complete stranger to try and play matchmaker, that would be the pinnacle of pathetic. Her tongue had slipped. Yes, the woman was pretty, but she was also on her shit-list. Her phone stayed silent for the remaining of her little reconnaissance mission. She approached the Manor slowly, making sure to crouch low and use the trees as cover. Once close enough, Kassandra scanned the walls, looking for a breach of some kind. It took an hour of walking around, but she finally found a wobbly spike that would give in with the right amount of strength.

The necklace around her neck pulsed as the Staff appeared in her hand. Kassandra used the end of it as a wedge against the spike, putting all her weight on the weapon. She heard a crack before the spike gave in, falling forward at her feet. The Staff pulsed again, taking its place back around her neck.

Entrance and escape route A.

Of course, she could use its ability to blink in and out of the Manor undetected (escape route Z), but the woman had learned the hard way to keep its magical uses to the bare minimum. There was no need for another witch hunt, especially at this day and time.

Her scouting took most of the afternoon, with the building’s blueprints Nix had sent a couple of days ago, Kassandra had a good overview of the Manor and how to execute her plan. All she needed now was to wait.

She walked back to the abandoned hunting lodge she had passed by earlier and broke the rusted padlock. It was dusty, but it would shelter her from the downpour. There was an old table, barely standing on its legs, a forgotten knife and some dirty cloths. Kassandra sighed and removed her coat. She sat cross-legged on it and closed her eyes to meditate.

It was going to be a long night.

-0-

“Beast Slayer! I’m glad to see you.”

“Daphnae,” Kassandra crossed her arms, looking equally amused, happy and a little smug at the woman’s earnestness. “I didn’t think you would be.”

“The path I set you on is fraught with danger. You could have been killed,” her voice dropped a little. “… or given up.”

It was a challenge, and Kassandra never backed away from a challenge. She grinned. “No danger could have kept me from seeing you again.”

Daphnae’s eyebrow went up, the reply died on her lips when she took a closer look at the misthios in front of her. Kassandra was favoring her left leg. “You are hurt,” she said with a frown.

The grin didn’t move, Kassandra waved her off. “Just a little graze, the lion put up a good fight,” so good in fact, that a part of its claw was lodged deep into her thigh.

She had attempted to remove it to no avail. Barnabas had tried too, once she limped her way back to the Adrestia, looking worse for wear but elated at the outcome, the pelt proudly draped over her shoulders. He had managed to dislodge a good chunk of the claw, numbing the pain with a lot of wine to get her drunk enough and on the verge of passing out. It did not prevent his patient from cussing him to Tartaros and back during the operation.

A small part of the claw was still inside; Herodotos had advised her to go see a doctor, but Kassandra dismissed him. She wanted to get the pelt to Daphnae first, she would see about this later. Besides, she could walk and fight just fine (or so she said). Both Odessa and Barnabas threw her a sidelong look but remained silent. Kassandra’s stubbornness knew no limits, especially when pretty women were involved. Herodotos did not give up and made her promise to see Hippokrates in Athens right after they left Phokis.

Daphnae searched her eyes, “The Nemean Lion? You killed it?”

Kassandra nodded proudly. She reached around her back to present the pelt, the movement making her grimace and wince. “A magnificent beast,” one she had actually felt bad for killing. Unlike the poison riddled boar of last time. That vile creature deserved death and nothing else. It had taken her _days_ to get rid of its stench.

Daphnae completely disregarded the pelt, the frown on her face deepening as she approached her. “Show me your leg,” she demanded, in a half-crouch.

Kassandra blinked at her, taken aback for a second. A sly smile made its way on her face. “My my. Already?”

The huntress looked up. Unlike hers, her eyes were holding no mirth. “Show me,” she repeated.

It was the same tone Daphnae used to lead her sisters, the one that left no room for protest. The other woman clapped her tongue and sighed dramatically.

“It’s nothing,” she removed her belt, letting it fall on the grass with a clink, before lifting the ends of her chiton to reveal a toned, bandaged thigh with a dark-red dot in the middle. “See? Nothing. I’m fine.”

She did not even answer, observing the wounded leg with attention before poking at it with two fingers. Kassandra hissed in surprise, losing her balance and falling forward before Daphnae caught her. “Nothing, indeed,” she said with a disapproving look.

The other woman recovered quickly and gave her that infuriating smile again. “You just wanted to get your hands on me, didn’t you?”

Daphnae puffed. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself, Beast Slayer?” she was staring at her lips. Two could play this game.

“I will take that as a yes,” Kassandra noticed her eyes straying and beamed.

She decided to stop entertaining her, Daphnae knew it was a way to steer her away from the matter at hand. “Come on,” she helped her up and led the woman to her camp, near the temple. “Let me have a look at this wound.”

* * *

“Okay so: turquoise water, hot people and an old dusty tomb?” Sam paced around the kitchen, munching on a carrot snack. “And you’re saying no? Sweetie, are you _insane_?” her arms flailed around as she spoke.

Lara bit her lip. “That’s the short version, yes,” she saw as much as she heard her friend sigh. “Sam, I just don’t feel it. There’s something there that I can’t figure out.”

The other woman stopped pacing, leaning over the table to look straight at her. “You’re overthinking this, Lara. That’s what. Trust your instinct.”

She shrugged and looked away, “I _am_ trusting it,” before refocusing her attention on Sam. “Abstergo has no business funding an expedition like this,” it just did not make sense.

“Again?” she rolled her eyes. “Why do you care? They make movies and video games, for God’s sake. Maybe they are fishing for new ideas? I don’t know, like VR Tomb Raiding Simulator?”

“That’s not funny, Sam.”

“Bitch, please. You just smiled.”

They shared a look before Lara chuckled. “Right,” her face turned grave again. “But why would they look for a forgotten mercenary?”

“Didn’t you say he won the Olympics?” Sam picked another carrot to munch on. Late night cravings were a bitch.

“That’s what Professor Moss found, yes,” her own research correlated with his information.

“And he’s buried with a magic sword?”

“The sword of Damokles, yes,” she grimaced, the idea was utterly ridiculous. Damokles sword was a figure of speech, a moral, cautionary tale, not an actual weapon. “Maybe. As for it being magical, it’s a possibility.”

They both shuddered. Ever since Yamatai, Sam had a hard time with everything remotely supernatural and Lara tried her best not to expose her to it. Himiko’s presence was still too fresh on their minds.

“It’s the stuff of legend, Lara. I mean, think about it: Oiled dude with legendary sword defeats a Cyclops. Blockbuster,” she made a little _ta-da._ “New franchise, chunks movie after movie and makes billions worldwide. Iron-Man who?”

Lara smiled; Sam’s imagination could run wild sometimes. Wilder than her own. “It doesn’t explain why they would need to look for it if they can come up with this on their own.”

“Five words,” the other woman tilted her head, counting on her fingers as she said, “Based on a true story. That’s an assured jackpot, sweetie.”

That… kind of made sense, Lara could not argue. Sam was the expert in this domain. To her, it still sounded like a colossal waste of money, and there was still something else gawking at her like an irritating headache she couldn’t get rid of but…

Urgh.

Lara shook her head. “It doesn’t matter either way, I already…” a gush of cold air made her stop and snap her head around to look at the door. It was slightly ajar.

Sam frowned. “Already what?” she prompted when her friend did not seem inclined to continue. Lara gestured for her to keep quiet.

Her gaze was fixated on the door. They did leave it open that’s true, but she had could have sworn she had felt someone staring at them just now. “Winston?” she called.

The old man was at the door less than a minute later. “Yes, Lady Lara?” he looked as sharp as ever, albeit a bit tired. Had he been awake all along in case they needed anything? Talk about dedication.

She sighed in relief. Her senses were in overdrive sometimes, a side effect of having people try to kill you at every corner. It was hard to turn off, even in a safe environment. “Nothing, I apologize,” she paused. “You should go to bed, Winston. We will take care of the dishes.”

The fact that he did not even try to argue and simply bowed was telling. “Goodnight, Lady Lara. Miss Nishimura.”

“It’s Sam!” she corrected. “I told you to call me Sam.”

Winston cleared his throat and left silently. He would do none of it, they all knew. She could scream at him to use her name until she was blue in the face, and he would still call her Miss Nishimura. Professional to the core.

* * *

 

Kassandra let her head fall on the wall behind her. _That was close._ Too close for comfort, she had underestimated Lara’s instincts. The woman hadn’t heard her, but she had felt her presence. Thankfully, the butler was also nearby and distracted her enough for Kassandra to flee to the next room. She looked around, trying to get her bearings. It was cold and slightly humid; glass bottles were glinting under the moonlight. By the look of it, she had ended up in the cellar. The woman grabbed a bottle, squinting at the label. A Pétrus of 1982, criminally expensive and vile.

“Horse piss,” she grimaced before putting it back.

Her plan had been simple: wait until nightfall, sneak in, gather all the information Lara had, purge her computer and off her silently then sneak out. She was on her way upstairs to the office when she heard talking in the kitchens. Kassandra couldn’t help herself, she had eavesdropped.

Abstergo was behind the expedition, she knew that already. It was the reason that had led her here in the first place. What she hadn’t expected though, was Lara to be on the defensive. Kassandra’s head was swimming with questions, she had assumed her to be a Templar, or at least close enough to the Order, but her reaction was telling the complete opposite.

An Assassin, then?

It could be. Though, they did not have the habit of exhibiting their findings. If it was the case, then it meant Kassandra did not have to kill her, for now at least. Maybe sabotage her research (remotely, with Nix’s help), enough to throw the archeologist off her scent.

Kassandra needed to make sure of it before she made a decision. She crouched low, almost crawling to the other exit door that she opened slowly. She climbed the stairs and veered to the left, towards the study. The computer blinked to life as soon as she closed the door.

Nix was already working his magic when Kassandra approached, remotely taking control of the computer. She opened the Note Pad to type, it was less risky than talking.

_Any links with Shaun Hastings or Rebecca Crane?_

Nix’s answer took a little bit of time. _Nope. Well, they’re either both British and/or into sports._

_Change of plans, don’t purge anything. I want access to her research, computer and phone at all times. Send me everything that you have now._

_Okie dokie. It will cost you, though. :D_

Kassandra rolled her eyes because _of course_. She checked Lara’s e-mails and opened the last one:

 **To:** Sebastian Moss (PhD.)

 **From:** Lara Croft

 **RE:RE:RE** : _The Eagle Bearer_

_Dear Professor,_

_Thank you for your consideration. The offer to join your expedition in Greece is indeed tempting. Sadly, I have other commitments that will keep me in the UK for the next couple of months. You will find everything I have gathered related to the Eagle Bearer (did you manage to find his name?) attached to this e-mail._

_I will keep an eye out for new information. Please keep me updated on the advancement of your team._

_Best regards,_

_Lara Croft_

Kassandra went over the whole conversation quickly. It was filled with crumbs of information and theories that seemed to fit. Lara had managed to track his place of birth to Sparta – which explained the Olympic Games – but aside from that and a vague location of a possible burial site near Santorini, they did not have much.

She sighed in relief. They were still far from uncovering the truth. Lara was resourceful, she would give her that. Kassandra might have been worried had she decided to join the archeology team. Without her, they would be running in circles.

She stood up, frowning at the half empty mug that read ‘Sisters of Artemis’ underneath an intricate drawing of a woman holding a bow. Her smile was wry; the Gods sure liked to taunt her.

Abstergo had tried to recruit Lara and she declined their offer. There was still no reason as to why, except for her hunch. So, she wasn’t a Templar. No known relation with any Assassins that Kassandra knew.

“A free electron,” she whispered. The most dangerous kind.

She had to wait, then. Because of her line of work, Lara’s death could tip the balance, even if she had no knowledge of the fight between the Order and the Brotherhood. Maybe the Assassins would try to get in touch, win where Abstergo had failed. Kassandra would have to keep a close eye on this.

 _All done_ , the words appeared on screen, drawing her out of her musing.

 _Good_ , she typed back. _Expect payment plus extra in twenty-four hours max._

Windows closed as the computer turned itself off like nothing happened. Kassandra turned around, ready to leave when she came face to face with an artifact. The Atlas of Kitezh, the map leading to the Divine Source of Immortality. The Staff of Hermes had been dipped in it, or so Aletheia had told her. One of her people had been tasked with keeping the Atlas and the Source’s location secret.

He had quite obviously failed if the artifact was here and left unsupervised. _Maláka_ , Kassandra took a breath to steady herself. The map in itself was useless. There was no way to crack it without being at the right place at the right time. It was just a piece of junk with intricate shapes now.

It was still stupid to have it on display like this. She shook her head in disbelief, making her way out of the Manor slowly. The two other women were still talking in the kitchens, Kassandra bypassed it and left through a service door that opened on the gardens.

It was easier to breathe once she was out of the property. She walked back to the hunting lodge, the rain had stopped a couple of hours ago, but the grass was still wet and the ground muddy.

She would call a taxi tomorrow morning, it would be less suspicious. In the meantime, Kassandra would stay there to sleep.

-0-

The sun was offering its first orange and golden rays, Helios’s chariot was barely piercing through the night. The breeze was brisk, tinged with salt and the smell of sand. The whoosh of the waves was lulling her back to sleep.

Just five more minutes.

The person lying next to her had other plans, though. She felt Kyra run her fingers on her back, retracing a small scar across her shoulder blade. The same one she had kissed a couple of hours earlier. Kassandra’s body awoke, muscles tensing slightly where the other woman touched.

“You’re up,” Kyra wrapped her arm around her waist to draw their body closer. “Misthios…” she nibbled at her exposed shoulder.

Kassandra hummed. “Maybe,” voice still laced with sleep. She turned her head to face the other woman, a cheeky smirk on her lips. “It depends on what you have in mind.”

Kyra was already looking at her through half-lidded eyes. She kept nibbling at her shoulder, licking slowly up her neck. “Many things, misthios,” she kissed her collarbone before blowing on it. Kassandra shivered.

“Many things...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with the (Reboot) Tomb Raider part to tie it up with AC: Odyssey. There’s no need to be overly familiar with it. Just know that in the last game, Lara “accidentally” triggered the apocalypse because she can’t keep her hands to herself. And she somehow survived a stab wound. To the heart


	2. Chapitre Deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you for the comments, kudos and bookmarks. I wasn’t sure how the first chapter would be received, seeing how it’s my first foray in these fandoms and writing for those characters. The positive response was quite a surprise. I hope you enjoy the second one just as much. It’s a bit longer, I apologize. 
> 
> Bit of graphic violence here and there.

She could feel the budding headache behind her eyes, it was late enough in the night to be considered morning at this rate. Immortal or not, her body still screamed for the rest this stakeout had been robbing her from.

Kassandra had been following that man from bar to bar to nightclubs for the past week. She had seen it all; the way he wobbled as the night went on, the women clinging to him more or less willingly, how he would slur his words and scream in their faces in a futile attempt to appear charming. He had somehow managed to convince one of them to go back home with him every single night this week, which was why she hadn’t been able to strike. Kassandra blinked, her chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. It was half past five, the club would be closing soon. If she was lucky, he would be alone. Maybe. Hopefully.

The doors slammed open, allowing a horde of clumsy drunk patrons to leave. Perched on the building facing it, Kassandra had the small crowd in her sight and was sheltered from view. She spotted a tall, lanky man trying to awkwardly thread his way out before he was stopped by the woman he was dragging with him. She saw them gesticulate wildly at each other before the stranger left him on the spot to call a car.

 _Finally_.

Relief washed over her, Kassandra silently thanked the Gods. He ended up hailing a cab after ten minutes of staring in the vacuum. She decided to get a head start; Kassandra would wait for him at his apartment. The woman ran, jumping from building to building, using the night as cover. Over time, the construction of big metropoles had forced her to adapt; to her greatest chagrin, Kassandra couldn’t free run and scale rooftops like she used to. People not only talked, but they recorded _and_ posted things nowadays. Her work demanded discretion, it was incompatible with having her face all over social media because of a leap of faith.

She arrived just a couple of minutes before the man. The bedroom window had been left half-open like every day since Kassandra began tailing him. It would be his last mistake. She slipped in and waited by the door. It all happened fast; as soon as he stepped into the bedroom, the woman took him in a chokehold from behind. He struggled, but his movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. He tried to claw his way out, tried to grab her hands, her sweatshirt, but every time he moved, she would squeeze harder. Kassandra craned her neck away from his flailing hands. When she felt him go limp and start to lose consciousness, she snapped his neck.

One less Templar.

She left his body lying there by the door for them to see. A warning. Knowing the Order, they would be sending a cleaning team before he could go cold to make it look like a suicide; drunk man hangs himself with his sheets over a broken heart. Or maybe an orgy gone wrong. They could get creative, when their reputation was at stake.

Kassandra took the long route through the roofs to reach the safehouse. Rain surprised her on the way there, making the woman slip on wet tiles and rooftops a couple of times. The thought of a hot and long bath managed to put a smile on her face, just as the sun rose.

She was just coming out of the bathroom, toweling her hair slowly when her computer beeped several times. Kassandra passed by the kitchen to grab a glass of water before sitting down. Nix had connected her to Lara’s computer, as requested. She hadn’t looked further into the Eagle Bearer for now, her research remained unchanged. However, Professor Moss kept sending her weekly updates.

His team had been in Greece for a month already, Abstergo had provided them with state-of-the-art equipment and even a privately hired security team for the digs. All in all, everything seemed to go according to plan. They had not learnt much in Olympia, they would be moving to Trizonia soon. Or maybe check their lead in Sparta.

“Abtsergo really wants to find the sword,” Kassandra mused. It had been drained of its power, it was just a piece of junk now. An unbalanced weapon, the tip of the blade was too heavy, the grip had been worn by time.

Unless… they weren’t looking for the sword, but something in the tomb. She frowned. Kassandra couldn’t have that happen. Whatever the Templars were after, she wouldn’t let them desecrate Alexios’ resting place.

They had hurt her family enough.

Making up her mind, she looked into that privately owned team Abstergo had hired. It wasn’t theirs, which meant they weren’t expecting trouble. Hiring local protection instead of dispatching their own agents was also good way avoid awkward questions from the archeology team and the government.

She would just have to get in on it, then. Kassandra sent a message to one of her contacts in Greece to get more information on who had been hired for the expedition. Next thing she did was book a ticket to Athens and tell Nix to forward all new information about Lara to her phone for the next few weeks.

Despite her body screaming for reprieve, nerves prevented her from sleeping that night.

She still had a couple of jobs to complete before leaving Boston, but the thought of _home_ made the process more bearable. Two weeks later, Kassandra set foot in Athens for the first time in fifteen years.

It looked nothing like the city she had known, but it still bubbled with the same nervous energy. She had seen the ravage of time firsthand, how the once breathtaking Acropolis had been left to rot, people stealing its rocks to build their homes before they realized how inestimable the monument was. It was a vestige of a time long gone, albeit a depleted one. She still remembered her anguish after discovering what the government had done to the cemetery where Phoibe had been buried. The anger and helplessness raging within her for weeks, to the point she snapped, sought and killed the contractors and anyone involved in the construction, consequences be damned. The works had suddenly stopped, and no one dared to touch the site for decades, fearing it was haunted.

Kassandra didn’t linger, she left for Trizonia the following day and introduced herself as a new recruit to the head of security of the dig, using a pass Nix had made for her.

He checked her ID and gave her a long, suspicious look. “Why would they send reinforcement? We’re looking for a tomb.”

Kassandra’s eyebrow went up. “I’ve heard your team tampered with ancient relics. The higher ups aren’t exactly happy with how you’re handling the situation.”

She saw the color drain from his face. He was averting her gaze. “I… I—look it’s not…”

Kassandra gestured for him to shut it. “I’m not the one you have to answer to, save it for someone who cares,” she said tersely. “I’m just here to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The underlying threat wasn’t lost on the man who could only nod. She left him on the spot, a small smile on her face when nobody was looking.

Her bluff had worked like a charm. She _still_ had it. Digs like these always had merchants from the black market sniffing around. Those poor agents probably thought they could make some extra cash out of their assignment.

She spotted two men talking among themselves. They stood out like sore thumbs with their bucket hats, padded pants, and buttoned shirts.

“…if we use explosives, there’s a good chance of a cave in. We don’t know what’s behind that wall yet.”

“But the X-ray didn’t show anything,” the other man retorted, throwing his arms.

“Wrong. It showed that there were no remains and that is all. There is no way to know for certain that there isn’t something in there.”

The second man sighed. It seemed they had been going in circles for a while and he just looked like he wanted to give up. Kassandra sympathized with him, she knew that sentiment all too well. She had felt the same with Sokrates on more occasions than she would like to admit.

“What do you suggest, then Professor? We go at it with our bare hands?”

Moss shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. I would just like to avoid dynamiting this place. Small picks will do just fine until we make it to the other side,” he paused to look around. “And it will give these gentlemen something to do instead of just standing there.”

The other archeologist didn’t try to argue this time; he nodded and left, grumbling under his breath.

Kassandra took it as her cue to talk to the professor. “Excuse me?”

Moss turned around, “Y-yes?” surprised by the woman’s sheer height, he took a step back and adjusted his glasses to look up at her.

“Sorry,” she raised her hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I heard you speak with your colleague and I was wondering if you knew what was behind that wall?”

The man cleared his throat. “W—well I am not one to get ahead of things, but if I were to guess…” he hummed. “Another corridor, probably. You know, Pierson was not totally wrong, we could save ourselves hours of possibly unnecessary digging, but I want to preserve as much of the walls as possible. They do tell a story, after all."

Kassandra nodded in understanding. “I just joined the security team,” she pointed at the man who was currently staring a hole in her back. “But I’ve studied ancient Greek, so if you need an extra pair of eyes…”

The man smiled, his face stretching awkwardly on one side. It was oddly familiar, “It is very kind of you to offer, um…”

“Kassandra.”

“Kassandra,” he shook her hand, still smiling. “Yes, very kind. Tell me, have you by any chance heard of the Eagle Bearer during your studies?”

She feigned confusion, pausing for a grand total of four seconds to pretend she was actually pondering the question.

“I’m afraid not.” Aristophanes would be proud. “Who was he? A warrior?”

His eyes sparkled. “More than that. He was a legend…”

Moss proceeded to tell her about his findings for most of the hour. Kassandra was a little humbled somebody would have such a big interest in her after more than two thousand years. Even if some of his speculations were wrong:

She had never been in a relationship with Brasidas.

King Leonidas _was_ her grandfather.

She had been thrown off Mount Taygetos and fled Sparta just shy of her seventh birthday, before she was old enough to join the Agoge with the other children.

The only thing Artemis had blessed her with was a broken heart.

Hearing somebody else retell her (sometimes hyperbolized or plain wrong) life story so earnestly was a very odd experience. Kassandra could only hum, nod along and slip in surprised gasps while the professor kept talking.

“… and this is why we are looking into this cave.”  

“You’re hoping to find a clue about his burial place,” she deducted. Smart man, too bad he was wrong and this would lead nowhere.

Moss nodded. “Another reason why these walls should not be dynamited into oblivion. We could be destroying some precious information.”

“You are right,” she agreed while standing up. “Let’s get to work, then.”

Kassandra assisted the team for most of the day, taking breaks to talk with the professor when he needed her input. On the morning of the fourth day, the Caduceus pendant around her neck vibrated.

_Keeper._

She froze mid-strike and turned her head to show she was listening.

 _You must leave for the Gates of Atlantis now_ , Aletheia’s voice resonated in her head. Kassandra hummed. _Quickly._

She gave another two hard strikes and left the cave while dusting off her pants. Moss was just sipping his coffee outside when he saw her. “Is there something wrong, dear?”

Kassandra shook her head. “No, no,” she removed her gloves and went to the tent they used as makeshift bathroom to wash the grime off of her face, the old man followed her suit. “I just forgot I…” she looked away for a second before turning back to him, “Today is my brother’s birthday and I didn’t get him a present yet,” shifting awkwardly on her feet. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not professional…”

Moss waved her off with a gentle smile. “Good God, no need to apologize! Take the day off, you deserve it,” he laughed. “You’ve put those workers to shame, go get some rest and give my regards to your brother,” Kassandra was ready to leave when he called her name again. “By the way, I have received new transcriptions from a former student of mine about the Eagle Bearer…”

Lara.

Kassandra knew that already. She had gone through them yesterday. The archeologist was on the verge of becoming officially annoying and make a grand re-entrance on her shit-list.

“…I would like to have your insight on the translation, if it’s not too much trouble?” he was a bit sheepish.

The way he smiled at her reminded Kassandra of Barnabas. She smiled back and nodded. “Of course.”

She hoped Aletheia would not take much of her time. She tended to lose track when she was in Thera. After one last goodbye to the team, Kassandra walked out of the forest, jogging towards the beach in a secluded area and disappeared in a flash of light.

* * *

 

With the last of the relics dated, Lara was finally _done._ Every artifact from Yamatai to Peru had been carefully referenced. All she needed to do now was to send the last of her findings to the Japanese Ministry of Culture and keep everything related to Paititi and Kitezh away from the Peruvian and Russian governments. Lara stretched, feeling her muscles tense and relax under the motion. This called for a celebratory boxe of Jaffa cakes and a nice cup of tea.

She went to the kitchens, humming to herself as she got everything ready before settling in the gardens. Professor Moss had been sending her regular updates on his digs for the past two months and a half. He had requested they discuss his findings on the phone this afternoon. He would be calling soon. Lara did feel bad for turning down his offer, especially as the months flew by and she realized Sam was right; she had been overthinking it. Lara kind of regretted the missed opportunity.

Scratch that. She definitely regretted it.

Sam had left a couple of days ago and Lara was feeling her absence, as well. The place was too big for her, which is why she usually made a beeline between the study, the master bedroom and the training grounds she had installed. Lingering in the empty corridors made her feel small.

She had already destroyed half of the Jaffa cakes when Winston joined her, holding the receiver in his gloved hand. “A phone call for you, Lady Lara,” he bowed.

She winced; formalities really did not suit her. “Thank you,” she took it from him, pausing with the device halfway to her ear when he took his leave. “Hold on, Winston. Would you like some tea?” she offered with a smile. “I made too much.”

Lara could see his throat bobbing and the turmoil going on in his eyes. She could literally hear the wheels turning in his head, knowing full well it broke a plethora of protocols. After a long, awkward silence, he finally relented and walked to the table to join her.

He tried to stand up when she took the call but the woman gestured for him to stay put, she would come back in a few minutes.

“Professor Moss?”

 _“Lara!”_ the man’s voice boomed. _“How are you? I hope the weather is not too harsh in London, is it?”_

“No, no,” she ambled in the gardens, squinting up at the grey clouds looming over her. “I can’t complain. How is the expedition going?”

 _“Wonderful,”_ he cleared his throat, she heard him fumble with papers. _“We still haven’t found a burial site, as you know, but the last transcriptions we retrieved and those you sent us have been of precious help. We will be scouting the area around Sparta, next.”_

“I see, it’s good to hear,” Lara paused, kicked a little stone with her foot and bit her lip. _Oh, come on, Croft!_ “I might be able to join you, if the spot is still available?” there. Wasn’t so hard now, was it?

 _“Of course!”_ the professor was beaming, she could hear it in his voice and it warmed her heart. This man was really too nice. _“Please do. I have someone I would like you to meet,”_ he went on, _“She has been helping Doctor Pierson and I decipher the transcriptions, her input has been invaluable. I am certain you will have a lot to talk about.”_

“I look forward to it.”

The conversation went on for a couple of minutes as they spoke about logistics. The archeologist would be joining them at the end of next week in Sparta to scout the area. They bid farewell and Lara walked back to the small table. Winston was exactly where she had left him, sitting straight like an I.

She sighed.

The air was definitely hotter when she set foot in Sparta, though it was not tinted with the humidity of the jungle like in Peru. Moss had made a comment in passing about sending someone to pick her up at the airport but after forty minutes, Lara resorted to take a car and leave on her own. He had probably forgotten, and she hadn’t reminded him last night when he sent her the team’s planning.

They had settled in the Gorge of Rintomos, not far from Mount Taygetos. The professor was somehow convinced those rocks were hiding something. Lara could feel herself smiling as she approached the digging site. A big, new adventure. One she could share with other archeologists, for a change.

She spotted the white tents from a distance. Lara hauled her bag and fast-walked towards them, no need to appear over eager by running. She was five meters away from the first tent, she noticed how quiet it was.

Eerie.

Her blood froze as soon as she breathed in; the air felt heavy and loaded. Danger. It lingered everywhere. Her instincts kicked in right way. The woman opened her bag to grab one of the climbing axes she had started to carry everywhere she went. She approached the closest tent and peeked inside, it was empty. Lara went from tent to tent, all of them were empty. The camp was deserted.

_What happened here?_

* * *

 

Kassandra was stretching herself thin between Aletheia’s request and the digs in Greece. She had wanted to keep an eye on the expedition, but the Isu had sent her to watch over a group of rogue Abstergo employees in Egypt. The Heir of Memories was among them and had to be protected at all costs while she completed her mission. So far, Kassandra had been standing guard, picking Templars and Assassins one by one every night before she could make as much as a blip on their radar.

Layla, her name was. The one who would relieve her from the Staff.

_Finally._

It had not quite sunk in, yet. No dread, no impending sense of doom at the inevitability of her fate. Kassandra wondered if it was because they hadn’t had the chance to meet and talk yet. How long did she have left now? A couple of months? A year and a half at best?

Once she made sure all the Templars nearby had been taken care of and the rogue team was out of danger (for now, at least), she left Cairo in a blink and ended up in the forest surrounding the Gorge of Rintomos a couple of seconds later. The Staff of Hermes disappeared from her hand as she started her trek back to the camp.

She was exhausted and her boots were overflowing with sand. Hell, it had even infiltrated her pockets, somehow. Maybe she could make a quick stop by the bathroom tent and freshen up a bit, so she didn’t look like she had just crawled out of a tomb and weathered a storm.

Reminiscing on Layla and the implications of her mission, it took some time before Kassandra noticed something was wrong.

The quietness, the atmosphere tinged with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She stopped dead in her tracks before she reached the tent and looked around herself. The Staff reappeared in her hand, taking the form of the spear of Leonidas she had wielded a long time ago.

All the tents were empty, except for the digging equipment and a couple of guns in a chest that wasn’t even locked. Whatever happened, it had been too quick for people to react. There were no bodies, no stains. A clean job.

Kassandra closed her eyes and focused the Staff’s power. _Show me._

An orange hue came out of the spear as glowing silhouettes suddenly appeared around her. She saw the team going about their business. Turning around herself, she spotted another group of shadows coming from the forest. They were holding what looked like firearms. Kassandra frowned, that would have made a mess. Unless…

“Poisoned darts,” she crouched where the first shadow collapsed and convulsed. “Efficient,” and clean.

The Brotherhood, surely.

The Staff turned back into a necklace as Kassandra walked towards the small cave Professor Moss had been investigating. Empty like the tents, though there were signs of a fight, small blood stains on the wall in front of her – not enough to be alarming, she thought, with some relief. His glasses were shattered on the ground. Had they tried to capture him? Was he alive? She kneeled to grab them, ready to use the Staff to see what had happened but decided against it a second later.

“Stand and turn around slowly,” a voice said. “Hands up.”

She did as she was told, coming face to face with no other than Lara Croft aiming her with a gun. The woman was shorter than she thought.

“Lower your weapon,” Kassandra’s eyes narrowed.

“Who are you?”

“Lower your weapon,” she repeated tersely.

“Who _are_ you?” Lara flicked the safety off and aimed at her heart. A warning.

“I don’t answer well to threats. Lower your weapon, I will not ask again,” her features darkened.

She may be not faster than a bullet on her own, but she could be just as deadly. Kassandra’s hands went down slowly, Lara was watching her every move.

“I said hands up.”

“Do you honestly think I would hang around here if I had anything to do with this?” she kept her palms directed towards the other woman to show she wasn’t trying to reach for something. She didn’t need to, she could get her in a blink, if Kassandra wanted.

Lara did not budge. “Then why are you here?” the woman was tall; it could become a problem if they got into close combat. She took a step back.

Kassandra saw it. Smart girl. “The same thing as you, I guess,” she shrugged. “Obviously I am not getting paid if my clients disappear.”

It took a second to register, but when she did, Lara rolled her eyes. Of all things, it had to be a mercenary. “What happened?” her face was set in a suspicious frown.

Kassandra’s eyes narrowed, “I was trying to find out before you barged in and pointed that thing at me,” she gestured to the gun with her hand.

They stared at each other in silence for a long while, gauging. There was something coming from her, a weird aura Lara could feel. Something powerful, though the woman herself looked strong, but it wasn’t only that. Her deceptively casual stance and the way those hazel eyes were staring at her were unsettling, like she knew she couldn’t be beaten.

Aside from two knives (one at her belt and the one hidden in her boot Lara could see poking out), the woman did not seem to be carrying any other weapon. Where did her confidence come from when she was being held at gunpoint? A very small part of Lara hoped it was an act. She really did not want to face another Konstantin.

“Where were you when it happened?” she lowered the gun a little, to gauge her reaction. If Kassandra took the bait and tried something, she would still have enough range to shoot.

“Busy,” she did not move.

Lara’s eyebrow went up. “Care to elaborate?”

“No,” she continued before the other could speak. “Look, we can stay here and you can try to drill me, or we can find out what happened and where Moss is. Your choice,” her accent got thicker as her frustration rose.

Kassandra let her arms fall at her sides. She was already in a foul mood and this little game was getting on her nerves. They had wasted enough time already. If Lara wanted to shoot, so be it. She would have another thing coming.

Lara blinked at her. The nonchalance had made her pause but her reaction right now had taken her off guard. Did she actually worry about Professor Moss?

“You think they took him?”

The woman had already turned around and was inspecting the walls again. “Maybe,” if the Assassins were behind this, it meant they were looking for the sword, as well. They wouldn’t have gone to such lengths only to kill their only serious lead.

Lara walked beside her. “What can you tell me?”

She was still inspecting the walls. “Nothing that you don’t already know. They used tranquilizer guns with poisoned darts, took the bodies with them along with all the computers. Moss was here this morning.”

The archeologist kneeled to examine the ground. “They fought,” she pointed out.

“Yes. Broke his glasses, too.”

“Who would do this…” Lara mused out loud.

“I don’t know.”

She stared up at her for so long that Kassandra thought Lara was going to call out her lie. She straightened and offered her hand instead.

“I’m Lara…”

“Croft,” she gave a firm handshake, but not bruising. “I know. Moss talks a lot about you,” plus she had a complete file on her (that she hadn’t asked for), down to her last dentist appointment. Courtesy of Nix.

“Oh, hm… I see,” Lara scratched her cheek. Was that embarrassment? From the very person who had pointed a gun at her only a minute ago? “Um…”

It made her frown a bit. “Kassandra,” this woman was weird.

Lara nodded and let go. “Seems a lot of people are interested in finding the Eagle Bearer.”

The other woman sighed tiredly. “You tell me,” and swept the area one last time to make sure they weren’t missing anything. She couldn’t really use the Staff now.

So much for her efforts to be forgotten, she had the Templars, the Assassins and Lara freaking Croft looking for her right now.

-0-

They left the camp at nightfall when it was obvious there would be no clue to be found. They were going to plan their next move in Sparta. Kassandra was radiating with pent-up tension on their way back to the city.

“Are you alright?” Lara’s eyes left the road for a second to check on her.

The woman was glaring dangerously at the glove compartment as if it had offended her. “Yes.”

“Carsick?” she prompted.

Kassandra’s fists closed and opened every couple of seconds. “Something like that.”

 _Coping mechanism_ , Lara remarked. Better change the subject. “Are you from here?” she tried, after a long and tense pause.

The woman blinked at her. Small talk? Really? “Sparta?” Lara nodded, “I was born here. I grew up in Kephallonia, though.”

Old, boring Kephallonia she hadn’t set foot on in two thousand and five hundred years because she had vowed to never go back, and if anything, Kassandra was a woman who kept her promises (most of the time, at least). Literally _fuck_ Kephallonia.

“Odysseus’ home,” Lara perked up suddenly. “I’ve been there once,” more like Sam dragged her there on their backpacking adventures in Greece. Mykonos had been too expensive for the college students that they were, Kephallonia had been the perfect compromise to tick all their boxes. She could hike and nerd during the day while Sam burned every single dancefloor as they drank foot-long shots with the locals until morning. “Beautiful underwater caves. One of the most impressive statue of Zeus, too,” as big as the one in Olympia.

Kassandra hummed. She remembered that statue very well, standing in all its naked glory, overlooking the island. She also remembered being twenty meters above ground, swinging and hanging from Zeus’ balls as a six-year-old Phoibe sobbed with laughter and urged her to backflip her way down.  

 _Phoibe…_ she felt a smile tug at her lips and didn’t fight it.

The drive was considerably less awkward after that. The woman retreated into her head and Lara focused on the road. Once in Sparta, Kassandra gave her directions to the place she had settled in for the expedition. It was a small apartment, barely lived-in, but it was something.

“Make yourself at home,” she said absentmindedly and walked straight into the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since before her express trip in Egypt the previous night; she was _starving_.

Lara took the time to empty her bag; the other climbing axe she had brought, her laptop, journal, and a big dusty edition of Herodotos’ _Histories_ from the Croft collection. She manipulated it with care, the book had been in her family for as long as she could remember. After her compulsive foray into Egyptology, nine-year-old Lara had dived right in Ancient Greece, courtesy of her father. Herodotos had become a role model of sorts for an obsessive child.

She got to work right away, booting her laptop and alternating between researching online resources (having access to almost all libraries across the world now that she had graduated and wrote her own papers had its perks. Her bank account wasn’t agonizing anymore) and using the book plus her journal notes to back them up. 

Sweet smells wafted from the kitchen making it harder to focus and ignore her growing hunger. Kassandra reappeared an hour later, quietly settling plate after plate on the dining table while Lara had claimed the coffee table as her ‘workstation’. Once she was done, the woman sat and sighed.

Lara’s eyes drifted from the screen to the food. “I… thank you for this,” she was a bit sheepish, closing her laptop to walk to the table.

Kassandra’s only acknowledgement was a shrug as she dug in with her fork. “What did you find?” she asked after the first careful chew. _Perfect_.

Lara glanced around, it all looked so good, she had a hard time making a choice. “I was looking into Abstergo.”

There was a frown on her face. “They funded the whole thing.”

“Yes,” she picked the creamy potatoes first and some meat. “And who would benefit from the company receiving bad press because of a botched expedition?”

Assassins.

“A lot of people,” she said. Lara was getting dangerously close to uncovering the truth about the Order and the Brotherhood, Kassandra tried to steer her away. “Then why not kill everybody? Why take Moss?”

She realized she had done the complete opposite right as the words left her mouth. Malàka _._

“They don’t have enough clues to find where the Eagle Bearer is buried…” she trailed off, looking down at her plate then back at Kassandra. “It’s delicious.”

“You sound surprised,” the comment ticked her, she got defensive. “I’m not just some big, dumb mercenary,” she had hobbies and a _lot_ of time.

Or used to have, at least.

There was that awkwardness radiating off her again. Was that really the same woman she had read about on the file? The one who went on a rampage and killed a whole island of madmen? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“None taken.”

All taken.

She spoke again, “What do you suggest we do?” Big, dumb mercenary was going to follow orders.

Lara was silent for a bit, eyebrows coming together as she took the time to think. “It’s a long shot, but… maybe we should try to find it before they do.”

Kassandra almost choked on her food. Almost _._ “So, old bones and rusty swords are more important to you?” she crossed her arms. There it was, the one-track mind she had been looking for. The power-hungry greed. She could play the awkward penguin all she wanted; at the end of the day, Lara was just like the others.

That seemed to jolt the woman, her frown deepened. _“No,”_ she took a breath. “We find it first, we have something to bargain with.”

Kassandra scoffed, the fork clunking loudly on her plate when she put it down. “We find it first, they kill Moss.”

They would, she knew they would. The Assassins would not hesitate to execute him once he outran his use. She had lived long enough to know there was next to no distinction between the Order and the Brotherhood. They only used different methods; the outcome was the same.

“Not if they think he knows where—”

“They will know he is lying,” hell, Moss himself did not know where to look. “You think they won’t get tired of running in circles, if he doesn’t deliver?”

They glared at each other. Lara’s nostrils flared. “Do you have a better idea?”

Hell yes, she did: knock that _maláka_ out, for starters. Then use the Staff to see where the Assassins were keeping Moss and release him. Easy peasy, she would be back before Tiny Tomb Raider even woke up.

Alas. She was cornered.

Kassandra let out a frustrated sigh that sounded more like a grunt. “You are risking his life for your own benefit.”

That’s it, she had had enough. Who the hell did she think she was? “Maybe if you had been _there,_ we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Time froze. Kassandra’s eyes got impossibly clearer, taking on an almost golden amber hue; she was furious. Lara saw them drift to the knife in her left hand quickly, saw the thread of thoughts unfolding in her head as she pondered the option. She was pretty sure Kassandra could see the same thing reflected in her eyes. They were like tigresses assessing their prey, ready to pounce should there be an opening.

_Keeper._

Kassandra came back to her senses, blinking several times. She had been close to just up and slit her throat. Had seen herself doing it.

 _It’s time,_ Aletheia’s voice reminded quietly. _The Heir of Memories needs you_.

She kept her eyes shut for a long while, her grip on the knife loosening before she breathed and stood up. “I need some air.”

Lara startled, like she had just come out of a trance. She had just… she was going to… for half a second, she had seriously _considered_ it. Killing someone, out of anger, like the monster she tried to convince herself Yamatai hadn’t awakened.

She let the knife go as if it had burned her. Might as well have. “I… I’m—” her hands started shaking. Lara looked at them like they weren't hers.

“You can take the bed,” Kassandra ignored her fumbling. Shoulders squared and back tense, she was already halfway out of the apartment. “I will be back later.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does threatening one another count as foreplay? It totally does, right?
> 
> I’m playing fast and loose with the Staff abilities since we don’t really know what it can do (aside from combat mode if you fought Pythagoras), so bear with me. Also, that Zeus statue in Kefalonia doesn’t exist irl, apparently. And yes, I’m using the game’s spelling for cities/people.


	3. Chapitre Trois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for the comments/kudos/follows, you guys are awesome! It's humbling to know there are other people enjoying this and that I'm not just writing for myself. Your feedback gives me life :)
> 
> Chapter is a bit shorter because I cut it, it’d have felt disjointed otherwise. Sorry.
> 
> Malishka is a Russian term of endearment that can be translated as “babe” or “baby” its literal translation is little girl.
> 
> Same warning as before. Graphic violence.

“You seem preoccupied, Keeper.”

“ _Malák_ —” Kassandra jumped out of her skin, pivoting to look at Aletheia’s holographic form. “You scared me!”

The Isu tilted head, pausing for a long while. “Pardon me.”

It was rare for her to appear in front of Kassandra, in fact she could count on her fingers the number of times it had happened. Aletheia usually preferred to use their connection through the Staff, instead of showing herself, even if nobody could see her.

Aletheia had told her that she had studied humans for a long while, long enough not to sound like a ‘talking stick’ (her own words), yet, her speech still held a tinge of artificiality. Her elocution could become unnaturally stiff at times. Was it the monotonous tone? Or maybe her eyes that didn’t seem to blink? Kassandra figured there was only so much emotion an A.I. could muster, even a highly advanced one.

She turned around, taking in the view. Despite being stripped of its once-pristine white, the pyramid of Chephren was still a sight to behold, standing tall and strong long before Kassandra was even born. The night gave the pyramids of Giza a supernatural aura. Fitting.

“I am preoccupied,” she said.

The answer didn’t come right away, Aletheia was probably running billions of simulations to calibrate her replies in the time it took Kassandra to blink. “The Heir?” she let the rest left unsaid.

“No,” her hand went to the Caduceus pendant instinctively. “I’m not afraid of death.”

“You welcome it,” Aletheia stated, after yet another pause. Perceptive.

There was a time when Kassandra would have argued, but the lone drachmae she had been carrying in her pocket ever since she started watching over Layla held more weight than anything the woman could have said.

_For the Ferryman._

How many times had she uttered those words? How many people had she buried? Would Charon even let her cross the Styx?

“Let’s just say I am ready,” Kassandra sighed.

She shifted, bringing one knee closer to her while letting the other leg hang in the vacuum. The woman had trespassed and climbed all the way up after her watch. She needed the peace and quiet.

“Are you, really?” the question startled her by its blunt honesty.

Aletheia had spent the last two millennia and a half with her after all. She could smell her bullshit. Figuratively.

This time, it was Kassandra who took a moment to think over her answer, “I am tired,” admitting it to herself was easy. Telling it to the Isu was a whole other beast. Anticipation made her heart pound in her ribcage and her hands clammy.

“I understand.”

That was _not_ what she had expected to be told. It made her turn around to look at Aletheia. The other woman was staring at the pyramid straight ahead. It dawned on her right then, how similar they were. Just how long had she been waiting?

“How old are you?” Kassandra blurted out of the blue. It had never crossed her mind to ask before.

The woman glanced at her again, tilting her head to the side. “I was eighty-five thousand human years when I transferred my consciousness to the Staff. I believe my physical form died with the rest of our Civilization,” there was the barest hint of a sneer as she spoke the last word.

Kassandra blinked a couple of times. “That’s a lot.”

“Time is relative,” she explained with a smile. “I do not feel it the same way you do.”

In this regard, Pythagoras and she had been the same. He had easily disregarded the burden of time, even turned it to his advantage. There was just so much to _learn_ from those who came before. His daughter, on the other hand, carried it on her shoulders like Atlas held on the celestial spheres as he endured his never-ending punishment. 

“If it is not the Heir then,” she went back to her original question. “Is it the other human? The… archeologist you almost killed?”

Twice.

Kassandra winced. “Thank you for intervening,” whether Aletheia had done it on purpose or not, she had spared her a great deal of clean up. “She is insufferable.”

Aletheia took a step closer. “She seems fine to me.”

The other woman gave her a sidelong glance before sighing and looking away. “I don’t know what to do.”

She wanted to find Moss. The poor man didn’t deserve to die on her behalf, but it would be hard to do without exposing herself, especially with Lara looking into the Eagle Bearer. Helping her didn’t sit well with Kassandra either. What would she do once she found Alexios and the sword?

“You do not have to aid her find your brother, if you do not wish to,” the Isu said. “But remember she had access to a very powerful technology,” she turned to face Kassandra. “The very same that is keeping you alive. And she did not use it. She destroyed it when asked to.”

The Divine Source, the Atlas of Kitezh. Would an Assassin or a Templar have done the same? She shuddered; the consequences would have been disastrous if they had gotten their hands on it. They could have created a whole army of immortals if they wanted, with no way to defeat them.

Alright then.

“I won’t help,” her tone was sullen. The other woman nodded. “But I won’t stand in her way either.”

If Lara wanted to try and find the Eagle Bearer’s tomb, so be it. She would do it on her own, Kassandra was just going to watch. _Let’s see what’s in that big head of yours_.   

“Fair enough.”

* * *

 

Her hands are bound behind her back, it’s too tight and she can’t move them.

_Run._

She does. The bullets echo in the forest, they whiz past her. The crew of the Endurance falls one by one. She tries not to think about it, if she stops to turn around, she dies.

She is crouched so low, she’s almost crawling on her knees in the muddy soil. They are looking for her, flashlights and guns circling around. There’s a small woodhouse in ruins just ahead. She runs, trips on a root, but she gets there before any of them can see her.

_Breathe._

“Are you playing hide and seek, _malishka_?” the light of his pocket lamp seeps through the nooks and crannies of the planks. It blinds her, she turns her head the other way. Maybe he won’t see her. “You think this is going to save you?” he laughs. “No one escapes.”

_Breathe._

The light whips back, he stands there with his ragged clothes and a manic glint in his eyes. “I always find them,” he points the gun at her head. “Get out of there,” she doesn’t move and he yanks her out. “Stop wasting my time!”

She tries to make a run for it after kicking him in the crotch, but the gaping hole at her side is slowing her down. He pulls her back and shoves her into the wall. He is leering at her, body flush against hers and it’s disgusting. She can’t escape. He smiles, his calloused hand is on her cheek before it travels to her throat.

“You are hot…” she turns her face to the side, but it only gives him room to bury his nose in her neck and breathe in. It’s disgusting. It’s disgusting and she can’t do anything about it. “You remind me of my sister. She was a bitch t— ”

She whips her face around, all teeth out and catches his ear. It’s desperate, but it works. He screams, she doesn’t let go until she feels it tearing off. He pushes her away, taking a few steps back and she uses the momentum to shoulder him in the chest.

They both fall in the mud. She gets up fast, her hands are free, she tries to get his gun a few meters away, but he grabs her leg. She trips, crawls, her arm is stretched, she catches the weapon with the tip of her fingers and turns on her back to see him looming over with a sneer on his face.

“Give me the gun!”

The first bullet catches his leg, the second just above his crotch and the third takes away his left eye and a part of his skull with it. His body topples over, landing heavily on her. He doesn’t move, or maybe he does but she is shaking all over, so she can’t say. Her breath catches in her throat and for a second, she thinks she’s going to pass out.

The forest falls in silent torpor around her. She has just killed a man. She can feel her heart hammering in her ears. She tries to move him away, but her arms are shaking too much.

He grabs her by the shoulder all of a sudden and she tries to scream but it comes out stifled. He is dead. Dead, dead, dead, he shouldn’t… he lifts his head, a bloody smile on his half-shot face. _“Malishka…”_

 

 ...

 

“Wake up, _malák_ —” Kassandra didn’t even have the time to finish before the axe almost impaled her in the eye. The hand not shaking Lara’s shoulder came out to catch her wrist just in time. _“Ela!”_

Brown eyes snapped open, panicked and disoriented. Lara was still half-dreaming, struggling to fight back. She tried to free her wrist, but Kassandra was holding on for dear life and pulling her arm away from her face. Her grip was strong, too strong.

She didn’t see the punch coming, though.

It caught Kassandra in the nose and upper lip with almost enough force to split it open. The surprise jab toppled her over from the bed, and sent her crashing on the bedside table. It was the commotion that finally woke Lara from her nightmare.

“Ow…”

“Kassandra?” Lara’s head popped up in her field of vision, still disoriented but wide awake, this time. “Oh, my God!” she jumped out of the bed. “Are you alright?”

“Do I look like it?” she grimaced, tapping her nose lightly to assess the damage. There was blood alright. Sucker-punched by a lightweight. Great.

“I’m so sorry,” Lara was on her in a second, helping the woman up to sit on the bed. “I didn’t mean to—I just… I was…” she frowned suddenly. “Why are you here?”

“You were trashing in your sleep,” she tilted her head up and moved her jaw around, wincing at the pain. At least she hadn’t lost a tooth. “I heard you, so I came to check…” her free hand made a circular motion as if to say, ‘and this happened’. She looked at her with quirked eyebrows. “You really do sleep with an axe under your pillow.”

There was a smirk on her face and Lara had no idea how to interpret that. She wanted to disappear into a hole and never come back. How the hell did you explain sleeping with a climbing axe at arm’s reach?

“I… uh…” silence stretched between them. She gave a pathetic shrug, hunching over herself. There was nothing to say really.

Kassandra didn't even try to hide it; she burst in laughter, loud and boisterous. “Are you sure you aren’t Spartan?”

That was enough to make Lara sigh in relief and get her to smile a little. “Fully British. Sorry?”

The woman puffed, shook her head and left the room, only to come back a few moments later with a glass of water and a small cotton ball up her nostril. “Here.”

Lara took the glass with a grateful nod before sipping at it. “I’m really, really sorry,” she said again, looking down at her lap. _What the fuck is wrong with you, Croft?_

Kassandra hummed. “Nobody died,” she saw the color drain from her face at her words. “It’s a joke, Lara. Breathe.” when the other woman seemed to have calmed down after a while, she spoke again. “Does it happen often?” there was a light frown on her face, and a hint of concern in her eyes.

Not so much anymore. Not that bad, at least. “I usually have it under control.” Vladimir hadn’t plagued her dreams in years.

The events of today plus the jetlag had taken their toll, her mind had been vulnerable. She shuddered and Kassandra decided not to push it.

“Oh well,” she was rubbing her jaw when Lara looked up. “You certainly hit hard,” the bruise would be gone by tomorrow, but still.

She sighed, the barest hint of a smile on her lips when their eyes met. “I _was_ trying to kill you.”

Kassandra scoffed and crossed her arms, looking all kinds of smug. “It will take more than a punch for that, but nice try.”

Once the other woman left, Lara tried really hard to get back to sleep but her mind wouldn’t cooperate. As soon as she would start drifting away, flashbacks of Yamatai would come, circling back to drag her awake. She gave up after the third attempt and laid wide awake in bed until it was considered a reasonable time to get up. She was fixing them breakfast when Kassandra walked by the kitchen, blinking groggily.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had made breakfast for her. “Thank you,” her head bowed slightly.

“Don’t mention it,” Lara said. “It’s the least I could do after yesterday.”

Threatening her and trying to kill her twice in less than twenty-four hours; that ought to break some Guinness world record.

They sat down in silence, but her eyes kept drifting to Kassandra’s arms. The woman thought Lara was admiring her muscles for a hot second, but it turned out she was focused on her scars, on full display because of her tank top. Crap.

“How did you get those?” she gestured at the set of three puckered scars on her right arm.

A barbed whip from an overzealous slave owner, a wolf pawing at her when she was out hunting, and a rusted dagger from a thug who tried to steal her hard-earned drachmae. All in the span of two weeks when she was thirteen. It had _hurt_.

“Rough childhood,” she replied. “How did you get yours?” she pointed at the angry looking one slicing across her biceps.

“Flaming arrow.”

Kassandra choked on her tea, half-coughing, half-laughing. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” she smiled a little and tugged on her sleeve to cover it. Her discomfort was palpable.

They still made her self-conscious, though they weren’t as bad as the one on her side. Other than the Japanese doctors who had treated her, Sam was the only person who had seen the full extent of the damage, fleetingly when Lara changed from her blood and mud caked clothes on the rescue ship. She had always been modest due to her upbringing, but ever since Yamatai and the array of scars it brought, she had made a point not to show her stomach. It would just bring questions and long judgmental silences.

Kassandra decided to let her work alone after breakfast, made up something about going to the gym to blow off some steam and train. That sorry ass excuse wouldn’t have flown the night before, but Lara only shrugged and said she would stay in to do research. The tacit break was welcomed, they both needed to be out of each other’s hair for a while.

She left (with a gym bag) for Thera but Aletheia sent her straight back to Cairo. Assassins were preparing an assault on one of the rogue Abstergo team members, after all their attempts at retrieving them quietly failed. She arrived just in time to see snipers get in position above ground to cover their field team who was advancing on a hotel door.

There was no time for careful planning, Kassandra used the Staff to its full abilities, blinking in and out of the shooters’ sights as she struck them one by one. The team on the ground rained a sea of bullets on her as soon as she appeared in the middle of their small circle. She disappeared before they realized what was happening. They all collapsed, riddled with their own bullets.

She allowed herself to breathe once it was over. The door creaked open slowly as a woman peeked outside, holding a gun with a trembling hand and a radio in the other. Kassandra recognized her; Doctor Geary. She was the one monitoring Layla’s vitals when using the Animus.

 _“Deanna? Deanna, what’s happening?!”_ Layla’s distressed voice came through the walkie-talkie. _“Deanna, are you alright? Talk to me!”_

Kassandra kept her index finger on her lips to tell her not to make a sound. “You are safe,” she whispered. “I am not your enemy.”

“W-who are—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she shook her head. “You can’t stay here. Find somewhere to lay low and keep Layla away from harm.”

The doctor nodded, giving a few words of reassurance to the woman on the other side of the line. She blocked the door with a bunch of junk as she closed it; it wouldn’t do much to stop another assault, but it would buy her some time while she made preparation to leave.  

There was a low moan and rasped breaths behind her. One of the Assassins was still alive, clutching his leg in an attempt to stop the hemorrhage. From the look of it, it was already too late. She approached him, taking his mask off to have a good look. He gasped, squinting up at the woman. He looked young, too young to die. They must have been desperate to use people who had barely reached adulthood as cannon fodder. Or particularily heartless. 

“We need to talk,” she grabbed him by his hoodie and dragged him away without ceremonial.  

His stifled groan was cut short when they disappeared. They were back in the cave of Rintomos, the archeology team had been searching.

His back connected painfully with the wall when she threw him. “Wh—what… how did yo—”

Kassandra crouched down to be face to face. Her features were hard; eyes burning amber in their fury and lips set in a thin line. “Ground rules: I'm the one asking questions, not you. Is that clear?”

The man didn’t say anything.

She slapped his hands away from his leg and pushed her thumb in the wound before he could react. A piercing cry echoed in the cave. He started trashing around, trying to remove her hand but she wouldn’t budge.

“Is that clear?”

He nodded frantically and she let go. Kassandra wasn’t one to use torture as a way to get information, but she was _pissed_. These people didn’t even make sense anymore, were they aware of who they were trying to kill?

“I won’t lie to you,” she sighed. “You will not leave this cave alive. But, you can have a painless death, or bleed out. Your choice.”

The man blinked several times, shuddering. When she leaned towards his leg again, he shrunk. “Pl—please don’t—!”

Kassandra pulled away. “Will you answer my questions?”

He nodded again, swallowing as his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Why are you after that doctor?”

“We had directives. She’s a…” he coughed. “She’s a T—Templar.”

“You were just following orders, then?” he nodded. So, they were not aware the team had gone rogue or that the Templars were also after them? It wasn’t in the Brotherhood’s nature to keep their own in the dark like this. “Is there another assault planned in case you failed?”

The man hesitated for a second, averting her eyes. She tilted her head, hand at the ready. “Y—yes, but I don’t know when, I swear!” he was starting to hyperventilate. “We are supposed to report back in two days.”

Kassandra felt relieved. This would give enough time to Doctor Geary and Layla to disappear. They could not leave Egypt, both Abstergo and the Assassins would be monitoring airports, train stations and ports, but they could go underground.

“It’s all I know! I swear!”

She sighed, looking to the side before refocusing on him. “There was an assault here, yesterday. What can you tell me about it?”

“I… I wasn’t here. It wasn’t me…”

“I know it wasn’t you,” she cut him. He was sweating a lot, his eyes were drifting everywhere. There wasn’t much time left; he would be going into shock soon. “But you must know what happened. What can you tell me?”

His breathing was shallow and a bit wheezy. “There’s…” he swallowed. “There’s something the Brotherhood is searching…”

“A sword?” she prompted.

The man shook his head slowly. “N-no, it’s not a…” and breathed. “It’s a wheel.”

Kassandra frowned. “A wheel? What wheel?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does it have to do with the Eagle Bearer?”

“I don’t know!” he repeated; his breathing was more frantic.

“They took a man with them,” his head lolled to the side, she grabbed him by the chin so he would look at her. “They took a man with them,” she said again, “Old, with a beard. An archeologist. Where did they take him?”

“I don’t…” he started coughing blood. “… know. Please…”

Kassandra had half a mind to just let him die like this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm down and gather herself. It was obvious he was in too much pain to be able to function, let alone give information. There was no need for cruelty. 

“Alright.”

She removed the hidden blade strapped to his arm to put it on her own before placing her hand flat on his chest, above the heart. He closed his eyes, tears running freely on his cheeks when she whispered a few words in Ancient Greek.

_“Gaia, Mother of all, I greet you.”_

-0-

It’s not like she was expecting anything in particular when she walked in the apartment that night, but Kassandra certainly did not expect half of the living room wall to be overtaken by a giant map of the Aegean Sea, littered with stick-it notes, red yarn, printed pictures of ruins and people’s busts.

She stood there, blinking at Lara’s Franken-creation while the archeologist was fussing over it, adding more colored pins as she went.

“Uh…” Kassandra cleared her throat. “That’s…”

“I know,” Lara looked at her, hands up in apology. “I will clean it up,” she turned towards the map again. “It helps me focus and organize.”

Well, she wouldn’t call it organized, per se. Compulsive? Definitely. But it’s not like she had a say in this. Being cramped all day made Lara strangely productive, she was vibrating with energy, the other woman could feel it from where she stood. Kassandra put her bag down and stepped closer to have a look at the map. Several threads were crossing around Greek Islands.

“What is this?”

Lara looked up from her journal. “I’m trying to recreate Herodotos’ journey,” Kassandra’s confused expression prompted her to continue, “He recorded the expansion of the Achaemenid Empire, down to Xerxes’ battles in Greece, and he also described the peoples living around the Mediterranean Sea. Their customs, their myths, their legends…”

“I remember reading about that,” she hoped her poker face was on point.

Lara nodded. “He goes on a lot of tangents,” she turned around to grab _Histories_ from the table. “He mapped all the islands of the Aegean Sea…”

Thanks to Kassandra.

“Gave them different epithets…”

Thanks to Barnabas.

“Most of them are obvious, but others not so much,” she squinted at the book before showing it to Kassandra. “Here, for example. It says the land birthed by fire where the champions rest, but this doesn’t seem to check out with any of the volcanic islands.”

 _Because it’s not in the volcanic islands,_ Kassandra thought while biting her lip.

A transcription mistake that had been passed on to all existing copies and their translations. The oldest edition of _Histories_ dated back to around fifty years after Herodotos’ death. It had been partially burnt in the fire of the Great Library of Alexandria – Kassandra seethed with rage just thinking about it; Julius Caesar and his _brilliant_ ideas. The scholars had mistaken birthed for scorched in their transcription. It had never been corrected and there was absolutely no way she would tell Lara about it.

Not helping. Nope.

Lara was staring at the book as if it was going to yield all its secrets the longer she frowned at it. She sat down at her computer; keeping it open on her knees while her fingers typed on the keyboard furiously. Kassandra kept observing the map until a stack of papers caught her eye.

“What is this?” she approached the table, skimming through the first page.

Lara’s eyes left her screen for a second. “Copies of Hermes Trismegistus’ sacred texts on immortality,” Kassandra’s blood froze. “I found some of them in Siberia, a couple of years ago.”

“In Siberia?”

“I was looking for the…” she trailed off and shook her head. “Never mind. Long story,” and refocused on the computer.

“I bet,” the woman sat down, going through the papers one by one in silence. She felt Lara’s weighted gaze on her. “What?”

“You can read Ionic Greek?” the underlying awe in her voice was a little unexpected.

“I can.” she played it cool, there was no reason to stress out. It would only raise suspicion if she got defensive. “Why? Is it surprising?”

Lara shook her head. “No, I just…” she looked around for a second, a small _ah-ha_ coming out of her mouth when she found her journal, “Here,” opening it at the right page. “I found this in Siberia, maybe you can make sense of it. I think it dates back to maybe five or six hundred years before Common Era. I managed to translate some parts, but my Greek is not so great,” she only had a few modules of it back when she was studying. She had improved tremendously since her trip to Russia, but not enough to understand the whole tablet.

“Ah…”

“It’s just that I specialized in East Asian History,” she looked _thoroughly_ embarrassed, hands flailing around as she tried to explain. “And I…”

“Lara, it’s okay,” the odd display made the other woman smile. “Give it to me.”

If Kassandra could have had a heart attack, she figured it would probably have felt like this. Dread rose within her the longer she read on. Her heart was pounding, her ears were ringing. She was starting to feel light-headed but tried to keep her breathing in check, in case Lara noticed.

“It’s about Atlantis, right?”

Two probable locations of the keys to open the Gates, and where to find the Staff, written by no one but Pythagoras himself. Kassandra wanted to facepalm. One of his students must have been looking for Kitezh, hoping to retrieve the Staff. There was something else too, but chunks of it were missing. It looked unfinished.

“It’s… not complete, however,” her eyebrows came up. “Where is the rest?”

Lara made a face halfway between frustration and shame. “These are the only ones I could get before the roof started collapsing on me.”

She snorted. “Who knew archeology could be so dangerous?” flaming arrows, now this? What was next?

“It has its moments,” her eyes were twinkling. “So? Can you decipher it?”

Kassandra went over the page again. “I will need some time to give you an accurate translation,” the lie came out with disconcerting ease.

First, she needed to have many words with Aletheia. Then she had to find a way to destroy this before Lara cracked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewatch the part where Kassandra gives the Staff to Layla a couple of times because I was convinced Kass had given her drachmae to pass over. Let me tell you it was not pleasant. Still not over Layla just leaving her body lying there and jumping right back in the Animus like ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> I know Kassandra is going all Terminator on people and killing by the dozens, but she’s seen Assassins and Templars fight for 2000 years, time has hardened her. I think she’s reached her limit in terms of what bullshit she can stomach from them. 
> 
> Also, lol at Lara learning Ancient Greek and Russian by reading random pillars/propaganda scattered around in Rise. You go, girl.


	4. Chapitre Quatre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to hug you all, seriously. I can’t tell you how baffled and grateful I am that you’re all reading, commenting and enjoying this. You’re awesome and I love you. 
> 
> Sorry it took a bit of time (though this is by far the fasted I’ve updated a story, ever) but there was a lot of content to put in here, plus it took a life of its own and just kept growing and growing. 
> 
> Again, graphic violence here and there.

 

Kassandra woke up with a start, a sore neck and a foul mood, her body slick and sticky with sweat as the sun kept beating on her mercilessly. Her mouth felt like sandpaper, arm weighing a ton and a half when she tried to lift it to feel at her face. She squinted at the light filtering through the roof and shifted on her stomach with a grunt, using a pillow to block the sun. It worked for a good five minutes before the lack of fresh air woke her up again. After a low groan and an even longer yawn, she threw the pillow away and dragged herself up.

“Too much wine?” Phoibe’s chirpy voice did absolutely nothing to alleviate her hangover.

“Markos’ horse piss,” she rubbed her face, blinking once, twice until the ground kindly decided to stop moving. “I’m never drinking his concoctions again.”  

Their latest client had no drachmae to spare, he had traded his new wine shipment straight from Lesbos instead. Kassandra had been skeptical, she didn’t work for wine; wine didn’t pay for the new gauntlets she had been wanting to commission from the blacksmith for months, or the oil she used on her spear every single night, or for food. But Markos, gullible as he is, didn’t see where the problem was. It would be easy to sell, he had assured her with all the naive conviction of a failed salesman. The finest of the finest grapes, a gift from the Gods, he had said as they shared a whole amphora together.

A gift that was giving her the most awful hangover she had experienced in seventeen years of living. The Gods certainly hated her.

“Did you eat?” she squinted at the little girl. Phoibe shrugged and tugged at her chiton. That meant no. The sun was already high in the sky, it was well past noon. “There’s a bit of dried meat on the roof, and an apple,” she had meant to use them as bait for her next hunt. Someone was paying good drachmae for a bear pelt. “Go get some food.”

Phoibe nodded timidly, sliding off the table to climb upstairs. Kassandra scratched her head, swallowing back a burp that assaulted her mouth as much as it did her nostrils. Zeus blasts her on the spot, she was _never_ drinking again. Her chiton was clinging uncomfortably to her skin, she peeled it off with a huff and walked in her smallclothes towards the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea. The breeze was cool on her overheated skin. A little dive would be nice. She looked down, quickly assessing her jump before taking a step back to build her speed.

“Kassandra, wait!” Phoibe was down in a flash, running as fast as her small legs could carry her. “I’m coming too!”

She rolled her eyes and threw her arms in the air. Serves her right for giving in her incessant whims. Kassandra had just taught the girl how to swim somewhat decently – or float without panicking, at least – that she was already asking for something else. Phoibe had been obsessed with diving from heights as of late, ‘just like you do it’ she had said, all starry-eyed.

“Fine,” Kassandra mumbled and freed her hair from her braid.

“Yes!!”

“Remember your first lesson,” she looked at the little girl and nodded towards the edge. “How do you jump from this height?”

Phoibe was already taking momentum and running straight ahead. “Like an eagle!” she threw her arms in the air.

Kassandra caught her wrist, just as she was getting ready to take her leap. She lifted her off her feet effortlessly. “Wrong,” and twirled her around before kneeling in front of the girl. “Do you want to die?”

“But you do it all the tim—”

She tutted and poked her tiny nose with a finger. “Just because _I_ do it doesn’t mean you can,” her voice softened. “You are too small for this.”

Instead of the petulant answer she was expecting, Kassandra saw Phoibe’s shoulders sag a little. She was staring at her feet. “I’m not small,” she mumbled.

_Oh, but you are, little bird._

“Look at me,” she titled her head down, searching her eyes. “You have to learn to jump safely before you can leap off like this. Otherwise you will break your neck, okay?”

If only she had followed her own advice. Back then, there had been no one to teach her but her own broken bones and twisted limbs.

“Okay…” Phoibe’s voice was meek.

Kassandra ruffled her hair and stood up. “So? How do you jump from here?”

She walked to the edge, peering down at the sea. “Feet first.”

“Yes, and?”

“Arms crossed on the shoulders.”

“Good,” Kassandra nodded. “Now go!”

For all the reckless bravado she had shown only a few moments ago, Phoibe was suddenly frozen in place. Her eyes drifted back and forth from the teenager standing next to her to the sea, her right leg bobbing nervously. Then: “Will you do it with me?”

Kassandra was taken aback but recovered quickly. She gave her a big smile, one that made her eyes crinkle and narrow into half-mooned slits. One no one else got to see. Only for Phoibe. “Sure.”

She faced the edge, wind whipping her loose hair around, her hand was on Phoibe’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. The little girl looked up, and Kassandra nodded.

They jumped. Together. 

…

“Will you teach me how to sail?”

“I don’t know how to sail,” she had barely made it out of Sparta alive when a storm broke her boat to pieces and almost swallowed her. Poseidon was _not_ her friend.

The teenager opened her eyes, squinted at the bright glare of the sun before quickly closing them shut. Their little dive had been nice, Phoibe remembered her swimming lessons and had even dived underwater with her without crying. Baby steps.

“You will learn,” the girl said resolutely. “And then, you will teach me.”

Something halfway between a snort and a scoff came out of her mouth. “We’ll be pirates,” it was meant in jest, but had her eyes been opened, she would have seen Phoibe’s lighting up in delight.

“Pirates!” she echoed with all the enthusiasm of a seven-year-old. “Kassandra the Eagle Bearer and Phoibe the…” her face scrunched in thought. “The…”

“Hummingbird?” she suggested to a very unimpressed Phoibe. “They are always underestimated,” she shifted on the lukewarm rock they had been lying on, so she could look at her. “It’s their strength. They are tiny but fierce creatures, very fast on their wings,” she pocked at her bony knee and glanced up, gesturing at the sky. “Even he wouldn’t mess with them.”

A perfectly timed shriek came from above, Ikaros was circling them. Always watching.

Phoibe repeated the moniker under her breath, testing it around her mouth. “I like it,” she decided after a while. “Kassandra the Eagle Bearer and Phoibe the Hummingbird, ruling the Aegean Sea!”

* * *

 

Lara wanted to scream.

It didn’t make sense. Nothing was making any sense whatsoever. She knew the answer was there, somewhere. It was so close, she could almost taste it. There had to be something she had missed, a clue, a word, a bloody comma, _something._

Frustration was making her restless. It had been two weeks and her research was going absolutely nowhere. After walking a hole in the apartment and going cross-eyed from staring at her screen and the giant map on the wall for too long, the woman had decided to go out. She ambled alone in the city for hours before her feet led her to a museum where she ended up staring another hole into a hoplites’ bust, deep in thoughts.

“Are you waiting for it to move or…?”

She tensed, holding her breath for a second before letting it out. “Are you following me?” she was getting soft if Kassandra could sneak up on her like this.

“As if,” she let out an amused snort, stepping next to Lara. “I was here for business when I saw you moping around in the galleries like a kicked puppy.”

The archeologist threw her heated glare. “I was _not_.”

Kassandra was grinning. “Please, all you needed was a black cloud above you and it’d have been perfect.”

“Are you seriously…” she was absolutely affronted. Lara punched the woman’s shoulder hard enough to make her step back and clutch it in mock hurt. “You twit.” Kassandra's deep laugh made her smile.

“We say _maláka_ , here. I told you.”

The cohabitation wasn’t as difficult as she thought it would be. The first few days had been tense, but they had found their footing. Kassandra spent most of her days out of the apartment doing God knows what, which meant Lara had all the peace and quiet to work without anyone breathing down her neck. She helped her with the Atlantis translation some evenings, though they were not making much progress on that front either. At least they had warmed up to each other, somewhat. Kassandra turned out to be just as much of a history nerd as she was. Something about honoring her culture and having too much time on her hands.

“So, what has you _not_ brooding?”

Lara sighed deeply. “Not making any progress is frustrating,” not only that, but Moss was still out there. The more time she wasted, the less chance he had of being alive. “There’s something I’m missing, and I don’t know what it is.”

They started walking to the exit. Kassandra hummed. “Maybe try to look at it from another perspective?” the confused silence prompted her to explain. “What do you know for sure?”

“About the Eagle Bearer?”

The woman shrugged. She could get cryptic sometimes. Like she was holding back, and it never ceased to confuse Lara.

They were reaching the doors when someone called Kassandra. They shared a look before turning around as a young woman fast-walked to them, her flowery dress shifting with the motions.

“Thank you,” she said, a dazzling smile on her lips. “The newest additions are invaluable. The museum owes you. Again,” she shook her hand, lingering a bit.

Kassandra bowed her head. “You are very welcome.”

“I was hoping,” the woman continued as her smile turned into a smirk that was just the right mix between awkward and seductive. “That I could repay you over dinner?”

Lara blinked. Oh.

 _Oh_.

Sam always told her she was dense as a brick (though, she would beg to differ) when it came to these things. It’s not that she was oblivious, it’s just that it wasn’t her primary focus. Working two jobs while studying had monopolized most of her time, there hadn’t been much left for leisure activities or relationships. Though it did happen, and on the odd times that it did, Lara gave it just as much attention as she would anything else.

It just didn’t occur often, is all.

Kassandra’s eyebrows went up. She bowed her head again, after a short pause. “Perhaps another time,” smooth.

There was an eye twitch, followed by glare thrown in her direction, so fleeting, that Lara would have missed it, had she not been paying attention to the curator. She averted her eyes and pretended to be wholly absorbed by the pottery nearby.

“Of course, of course!” her voice went up in a nervous laugh. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to bother you and your… guest,” she threw another look her way before refocusing all her attention on Kassandra. “Another time, then?”

“Another time,” she repeated with a cheeky smirk and a wink before giving her a polite goodbye.

Lara could feel the curator’s chilly glare on them until they rounded the corner. It took her twelve minutes of mental back and forth as they were walking down the surprisingly busy streets before she finally dared.

“You could have gone, you know.”

“Hmm?” Kassandra frowned at her.

“Dinner,” she clarified. “You should have gone.”

“Ah,” she chuckled, her reply was prompt. “And where do I bring her back when half of my place is swallowed by your research?”

Touché.

That made sense. It also made her feel awful. “Sorry,” she winced, and swiftly avoided a collision with a couple that refused to let go of each other’s hand. They gave her a dirty look.

Kassandra waved her apology off. “It’s fine. There will be plenty of time for that later…” she trailed off, her face falling a little before she caught herself.

They walked quietly, the market was swarming with tourists and locals alike, which was surprising considering it was a weekday. Kassandra’s eyes wandered on the stalls until they were drawn to a tiny replica of Odysseus’ ship, Argo. She stopped to have a closer look. Her face was unreadable when her fingertips began retracing its shape. The craftmanship was smooth and polished, it shined under the sunlight.

“Fifteen euros,” the man said with a thick accent and a smile. “Because you’re pretty.”

She blinked several times. “I wasn’t…” she didn’t have the time to finish before Lara beat her to it and gave him the money. “Why did you do that?” she asked when they started walking away. “You realize this thing probably cost twice as less, right?”

A shrug was all the answer she received. “It looks nice,” she took the ship from the woman and cradled it in her hands carefully. Lara was silent for a long while, looking at it with the kind of reverence that bordered on nostalgia. “Happy, the man who finds sweet journey’s end, like Ulysses, or he of the Golden Fleece…” she muttered.

“… Returning home, well-travelled, wise, to Greece, to live life out, among his own again,” Kassandra finished. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a poetry connoisseur.”

Lara smiled at her, a little bashful. “I am not, but my mother was,” poetry had been one of her many loves, along with painting and archeology that she shared with Richard. “She would read it to me sometimes, before bed,” it had way less action than her father’s myths and legends, but it was one of the memories that she cherished the most about Amelia.

_The man who finds sweet journey’s end…_

The epiphany hit her like a bag of bricks. Lara stopped dead in her tracks, forcing Kassandra to turn around. “What is it?”

“Herodotos did not have a ship,” she blurted while looking at the boat replica. “For his journeys,” she started blinking rapidly, as if just coming into the light. “He didn’t have a ship, but he traveled. How?” her brain was in overdrive. “How do you travel without a ship?” Kassandra was looking at her like she had grown a second head. “You can buy passage, or…” she counted on her fingers. “You befriend someone who has a ship.”

There. Right _there_.

She smiled, big and shiny. The missing piece of the puzzle. All she needed to do now was to reference all the ships Herodotos had written about in _Histories_ , narrow down to around the time the Eagle Bearer won the Olympics and see what remained.

Kassandra was gaping at her from where she stood. There was an odd light in her eyes, a mess of emotions like she couldn’t decide what to feel exactly. “Good job,” she said, though it might have sounded a wee bit dull.

-0-

Serves her right.

Damn it, she should have just shut her big mouth and let Lara paddle in the mud. Why did she have to talk at all?

Aletheia’s _genius_ plan had backfired in a spectacular fashion. Kassandra had been skeptical from the start: Lara should not be underestimated. She had shared her doubts as soon as she found out about the Atlantis’ tablet, they had talked about it – not argued, though it was close as arguing she could get with an A.I.– but the Isu wouldn’t relent. Lara was still harmless in her opinion. She did not see the point of killing her. Kassandra had caved in begrudgingly and decided to follow Aletheia’s directives.

Get Lara to open up, lull her into a false sense of camaraderie. Have her think they were becoming friends in order to slow her down while she used her contacts and Nix to track the Assassins who had kidnapped Moss. Buy time, always buy more time.

Every word had to be carefully thought out, weighted and calculated. Kassandra had been walking on eggshells for the past two weeks, but no matter how hard she tried, it seemed Lara always found a way to slither past her and closer to the truth. It reached ridiculous proportions, to the point even the most innocuous action, detail or item could trigger her mind.

Kassandra would be impressed, if she was not so upset.

She grunted and shoved her gear in the bag with more force than necessary.

That’s what she got for ‘steering her away gently’ as Aletheia had put it. She could talk all she wanted, now Lara was getting closer to the both of them, it was only a question of time. She would need to be dealt with, whether the Isu approved or not.

Kassandra’s mind was reeling. The air was stifling, she needed to get away from the apartment before she broke something. Or someone. If Lara noticed her seething when she stepped in the living room with the gym bag slung over her shoulder, she made no mention of it. Kassandra was stomping her way to the door, her hand already grabbing the knob when Lara called her name. It took a tremendous amount of inner strength not to wince. She leaned forehead on the door, closed her eyes and breathed out.

“Training?” Kassandra turned around and nodded without a word. She didn’t trust her mouth. “Do you mind if I join you?”

 _What_.

“What?” she stared dumbly.

“Can I come?” she repeated, already turning around to look for more sensible clothing.

“You want to spar with me?” by Zeus, she couldn’t catch a break now, could she?

Lara nodded, “I’m getting rusty,” she walked back from the bedroom with her own bag a minute later. “And I need to move anyway. Helps me think.”

And she had the nerve to smile. Oblivious idiot that she was.

Kassandra really wanted to say no because she needed to think and plan her next move in peace. But on the other hand, she really wanted to hit something. Might as well be the very object of her frustration, if Lara got hurt, it would be her own damn fault. Aletheia could not blame it on her.

“I will not hold back,” she warned, which only earned her another very annoying grin when they stepped outside.

“I don’t expect you to.”

Cocky maláka.

-0-

It might have been a tiny bit presumptuous, but considering Kassandra’s sheer bulk and size, Lara had honestly expected her to be slow on her feet. Slower than her at the very least.

The angry red bruise on her thigh would like to differ. The _smack_ of the hit had echoed in the whole gym room, turning heads and raising eyebrows in its wake. Kassandra had quite literally spartan-kicked her to the ground. She also seemed to have enjoyed it a tad much, but maybe Lara was imagining things.

“Are you okay?” she found comfort in knowing the other woman was out of breath too.

Lara stood up, tested her leg, stretching it out before putting weight on it. “Yep. Good,” it was already starting to swell, she could feel its pulsing burn. She didn’t look forward to how it would hurt tomorrow. “Ready.”

She took a fighting stance, switching her rear leg so she would not put all her weight on the bruised one. Kassandra’s style was confusing. Lara had assumed she would use some kind of military fighting techniques, considering her work, but it turned out to be a melting pot of different things thrown in, with a spec of brute force. Highly unpredictable. Dodging proved to be a real workout and frontal attacks were a no-go. As expected, when Kassandra only needed a hit to make her waver, Lara had to throw four just to provoke a reaction. And a small wince, at that. Quite disheartening, really. Her ego was getting a serious beat down.

Time to shine.

Lara took a deep breath. Not letting Kassandra enough time to circle her, she dashed straight ahead. The woman dodged her knee easily, but she didn’t expect Lara to plant her foot on her lap and use the momentum to climb her like a freaking mountain. The young woman cartwheeled her way above her, finding purchase on Kassandra’s shoulders to land right behind her.

“Wh—”

Taking advantage of the woman’s surprise, Lara used her weight and momentum to destabilize her center of gravity and trip her. Kassandra fell on the mat face first with a loud quack, Lara on her back, holding her wrist sideways and sporting a victorious grin.

Damn right.

There were a couple of flabbergasted stares and low whistles in the room when she glanced around them. Kassandra stubbornly refused to tap the mat with her free hand, opting to writhe around like a dying fish instead. She turned her head so she could look at the woman on top of her.

“Not bad.”

“Uh?” her smile fell.

It happened in a blink. One second, she was savoring her victory, the next, Kassandra had managed to arch her back up, using her abs and leg muscles in such a way that she rolled backward and twisted around herself, pinning Lara on the ground. One of her knees was digging in her bruised thigh, while her arms were blocked by Kassandra’s elbows.

Of course.

She had to be _that_ flexible on top of it. Bloody Amazon.                         

“Not bad,” she repeated with a smirk, the words coming out in small puffs of air as she regained her breathing. “You fought well.”

“Flattered,” she grunted, trying to wriggle her way out. They were squished together. Kassandra had her hips pinned and she stuck to her like glue no matter what Lara tried. After testing her holds one last time and realizing there was no escape, she relented with a sigh and tapped the mat.

Kassandra released Lara and got up, offering her hand. A very small, very petty part of her was screaming not to take it, but she tuned it out. She was not a sore loser (most of the time).

“That was fun,” the cocky grin on Kassandra’s face said it all. She tapped her back. “Better luck next time.”

“Oh, it’s _on_ ,” Lara's lips curved up, amused and equally irritated by her smugness. It was almost charming, in a childlike way. 

They left the gym half an hour later, both sore and wobbly on their legs as they walked back to the apartment, listening to the white noise of the city. Temperatures had dropped from the heat of the day, forcing Lara to put her hood on and hug herself to keep warm. Kassandra tsked next to her.

“Here,” she threw her leather jacket around the woman’s shoulders. “Nights can get cold.”

“Thanks,” she brought the lapels together in her fist. “Hey,” she winced; she hadn’t meant to be so loud. “I hope…” she trailed off. “I mean, I’m sorry if…” her eyebrows came together in a frown, frustrated at her own inadequacy. “If I did something that upset you or…”

Kassandra puffed. “It’s not your fault.”

Lara had a very hard time believing it. She was not that oblivious. It was clear that the other woman was frustrated. Kassandra had her habits, she gathered as much. Lara had barged in her life, disrupted her routine and stomped all around with her combat boots. Circumstances had brought them together, and yes the situation was not ideal for sure, but the last thing she wanted was to be seen as ungrateful.

“It's not you specifically,” she continued, mistaking Lara’s silence. “It’s just... there are some things I have to do. Sometimes I just wonder what’s the point of it all.”

“Killing?” she knew they were crossing into uncharted territories. They were both killers, either by trade or necessity. But talking openly about it was different than tacit acknowledgement.

“Among other things, yes,” Kassandra’s overt admission was still surprising. Her shoulders sagged when she sighed. “It never ends.”

That last part may have just been for herself, but there was a weariness in her tone that made her sound so old, all of a sudden. It was uncanny how her resignation echoed Jacob’s last words in Kitezh. Lara couldn’t help but empathize.

“You can always stop being a mercenary,” she said, perhaps a bit naively. “What will you do when you retire?”

The other woman looked at her like she didn’t understand the question. “When I retire?”

“If?” she corrected. “Maybe?”

Kassandra shook her head. A small smile was playing on her lips. She pondered the question for so long, Lara assumed she just didn’t want to reply. When she finally gave her an answer, the finality of it left the young woman confused, to say the least.

“I honestly don’t know. I try not to think about it.”

 

* * *

 

The heat wave had reached ridiculous heights. Opening all the windows proved to bring little relief to Kassandra. She alternated between long periods of sluggishness and hyperactivity that did nothing but make her sweat and trigger a headache.

Lara had left for the shooting range just after lunch while she had decided to stay in. After a surreal discussion about finding a bow and a place to train a couple of days ago, Kassandra had introduced her to one of her contacts. He lived a couple of hours away, deep inland and was using his large fields for practice range and some prohibited hunting. As per her instructions, Lara had thankfully turned a blind eye to his illegal activities. There had been some friendly competition that first time, though Kassandra quickly discovered that Lara’s archery skills were, not only on par with, but easily surpassed her own, despite having two millennia of training on her.

The legendary Beast Slayer defeated by a literal baby, Daphnae would be sobbing with laughter. Or shame.

Layla was still off the grid, which was reassuring. Neither Assassins nor Templars had reported any news, meaning that they were still on the look for her. Nix’s daily updates on Moss’ kidnapping usually rhythmed her days, when he wasn’t sending eye roll-worthy texts about Lara asking if she had ‘tapped that yet’.

Modern slang was so strange.

The thought buzzed around in her head as she lay sprawled on the sofa, one leg dangling out of the armrest with Lara’s edition of _Histories_ in her hands. From the look of it, this one dated back to one hundred, perhaps one hundred and fifty years ago. It was still in exceptional condition, despite it all. The Crofts valued their books, Kassandra could respect that. It was riddled with mistranslations and literal interpretations though; not the most accurate version she had come across. No wonder Lara was getting nowhere.   

It was too hot to think, even reading became a chore and the book ended up on the coffee table fifteen minutes later. She was contemplating taking a nap to sleep the heat off when the phone on her belly started vibrating and tickling her lightly. Her face scrunched in confusion when she checked the ID.

Nix had never called her. Ever.

Kassandra pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

An automated system of prerecorded voices answered her:

_“Delta. Alpha. November. Golf. Echo. Romeo. Golf. Echo. Tango. Oscar. Uniform. Tango. November. Oscar. Whisky.”_

She frowned, sitting upright on the couch. When the automated recording repeated its set of words, she grabbed one of Lara’s stick-it notes to write the words down, capitalizing the first letters.

_D.A.N.G.E.R_

_G.E.T_

_O.U.T_

_N.O.W_

Kassandra felt the sting before her body could register what had happened. There was a red feather sticking out of her shoulder. She removed it to inspect the dart.

It wasn’t the slacking mouth that gave it away but the numbness of her fingertips a few moments later. Her vision started to blur, throat getting dryer when she swallowed. Her breathing came out in short wheezy pants tinged with a coppery taste.

The sharp pain in her ribs was instant. She groaned, going white-knuckled with how hard she was gripping her shirt. The tightness in her chest increased in intensity until it became debilitating. She winced, blinking several times when she started losing control of her limbs.

Kassandra tried to stand up only to fall in a heap of limbs and hit her chin on the ground when her feet did not cooperate. Breathing had become too painful, every inhale left a burning path to her lungs. She coughed, red hot pain rocking through her body, silent tears running down her cheeks when she started convulsing. Her heart struggled to keep pumping when the poison reached her muscles.

Kassandra shifted to her back, eyes drifting everywhere, closing then drifting again. When she went completely blind, her mouth started to foam. She wheezed again, forcing air through her lungs one last time.

She died in a quiet sigh, eyes wide open and glassy.

…

It hadn’t happened all that often, but it had. Her first gunshot wound (she got surprised). A car crash, some odd decades ago. There was also that one time Templars had ambushed and tortured her for weeks on end, leaving her dangling from a tree during the Crusades until someone cut the rope and took the noose off her neck. It hadn’t happened often, and with good reason; the recovery was excruciating. Something neither Aletheia nor Pythagoras had warned her about. While dying did hurt, coming back was the most harrowing experience she had ever gone through. Nothing compared to it. She had decided that the best option was to avoid it altogether.

When Kassandra regained consciousness, it was dark. She wondered for half a second if she was still blind until she noticed streetlights filtering through the open curtains.

How long had she been gone?

Breathing was still hard, her mouth felt dry and coppery. Her body was hurting all over, muscles cramping, twitching painfully with every move. She groaned, rolling to the side to reach the table and use it to stand on her feet. The first two attempts had her tumbling back down like a rock until she managed to drag herself up, panting and sweating like she had just run up a hill.

She clutched at her chest again, the tightness had subsided a little, but the woman was still weak. Grabbing the phone, she let out a gasp at the date displayed on the screen.

Two days.

It had taken her body two full days to recover in order to wake up. Whatever substance they used, it had to be highly concentrated to be able to do that. They really wanted her dead. The pendant was glowing faintly, the Staff was still working to remove the poison out of her system.

 _Keeper_ , Aletheia’s voice filled her head. _You must leave_ _for Andros_.

“What?” she rasped before doubling over in a coughing fit. Her chest was burning.

 _Leave now. The gate has been opened_ , the Isu had never sounded so agitated before. It was alarming.

“How…” she coughed again, standing on shaky legs, holding the Staff with both hands for support. “How did that happen? It’s impossible without the spear.”

Or her blood.

Her eyes widened at the realization, Kassandra inspected her arms feverishly, going over them with her fingertips. Sure enough, there was a puckered wound on the inside of her elbow.

Not only had they poisoned and left her to agonize like a pig at a slaughterhouse, but they had also walked in here and… maláka, she was going to kill them all.

She gritted her teeth, summoning all her strength, and disappeared in a flash of light.

The air was crisp on Andros as she threaded her way into the forest. Kassandra could have appeared in the Forge, but she felt too weak to fight head on. Her breath came out heavy, both because of exertion and the rage boiling within.

She would kill them. She would kill them all. No one attacked her like that and lived to tell the tale. No one came at her family and survived. There would be no weapon strong enough, no God to protect them from her wrath.

-0-

Myrinne was shaking like a leaf in her arms, body rocking with the sobs of grief.

“You promised,” she said after a wail that chilled her bones. “You promised, Kassandra, you promised!”

“ _Mater_ , I...”

She tried. She had tried.

“You promised,” her voice muffled by her daughter’s embrace as she repeated the words over and over again until they jumbled together with her cries. “You said it. You said you would bring him home, Kassandra,” she was clutching at her breastplate, drawing her closer one moment, punching it with her fists the next. “You said you would bring him home!”

Kassandra almost lost her balance when Myrinne shoved her. She flinched as if burnt by the anguished fury and despair twirling in her eyes, the same eyes she had passed on to her. The ones that had looked at her with so much pride and love only moments earlier, as they walked hand in hand to Mount Taygetos.

Myrinne took a step back and looked at the spot where Deim—Alexios had been standing only a few minutes ago with the spear sticking out of his neck, a rictus of surprise on his face. Kassandra yearned to reach out, but she feared it would push her mother to the edge again.

“My son,” she rasped, hugging herself.

Kassandra frowned at the ground, swallowing her sobs. When their eyes met again, Myrinne’s were ashen and dull, her expression unreadable save for her quivering lips.

“I want you to leave Sparta.”

It was like being struck, the words slicing her open, leaving her bleeding and lost. “Leave… Sparta?” she said in a murmur, barely able to get the words out.

Myrinne nodded slowly. “Never come back.”

She was so frail and weak wobbling away, hunched over with the weight of grief. Gone was Phoenix, the infamous pirate, Myrinne the leader of Naxos. Today she was a mother who had witnessed her children fight to the death, only to lose both of them. Again.

_Death follows in your wake._

_I can’t look at you._

_I don’t know who you are anymore._

_Leave._

_LEAVE_.

Kassandra fell to her knees, hands clutched on her legs. She cried, cried until her voice became hoarse, until her cheeks were sticky with dried tears, until everything around her was nothing but blurry shapes and her eyes swell shut. She stayed there for hours, slumped over herself, glaring at her hands, chewing on the inside of her cheek till she drew blood. When she finally got to her feet, her knees were scrapped open with how long she had been on the ground.

Night had fallen once she came down Mount Taygetos. She searched and searched for hours until she found Alexios’ body lying in a deep ravine and hoisted him on her back, securing ropes around them as she climbed her way back up.

He was cold. So, so cold, weighing on her like a death sentence.

She had tried. She had tried so hard.

_He was never coming home._

Kassandra stole a sheet outside an unsuspecting house to cover him with and cradled his body to hers, walking down the path to the Adrestia. Barnabas’ welcoming smile turned into a confused frown, then a silent gasp when he noticed the lifeless hand dangling from the sheet.

“Commander,” he said solemnly.

“Set the course for Andros,” she muttered. “We are leaving.”

He nodded without a word, leaving her alone to pass on the instructions. The crew gathered a few moments later as he took command of the ship. Kassandra walked past Herodotos without a second glance, leaving him to look at her from where he stood near the mast, forlorn, eyes filled with worry.

Alexios looked so small in her arms, death had wiped the angry scowl from his face. Kassandra sat down at the back of the ship, keeping him close to her as she rocked back and forth, humming the lullaby Myrinne had taught her. The one that calmed him when he was getting fussy.

She didn’t eat, didn’t leave his side, didn’t stop humming until they reached the island days later.

“We are here, Commander.” Barnabas’ voice was meek when he walked to her. “Kassandra…?” he tried again when she ignored his presence.

Kassandra lifted her head, looking at him with brimming, bloodshot eyes. A shaky breath came out of her mouth as she stood up, Alexios still in her arms. “Don’t wait for me. Go to Mykonos to resupply,” they hadn’t had time before leaving Sparta, she knew.

Barnabas wanted to argue, but her pointed stare made him reconsider. He closed his mouth and nodded. “At your command.”

She gathered everything she needed for the burial in a small bag and left without a word to the crew. The door of the Forge opened soundlessly when she pressed the spear to it. Kassandra found a rectangular rock in the heart of the cave, far from the entrance and pillars, one big enough to lay Alexios on and begin the ritual.

She removed each piece of his dented armor as well as his chiton to wash the grime off his scarred body. Her hands shook, tears threatening to fall again when she reached his throat, but she blinked them away. After the anointment, Kassandra placed a wreath on his head and an _obol_ in his mouth.

“For the Ferryman,” she whispered hoarsely.

Letting her hair loose, she cut a lock to lay it on his chest before placing the offerings around the rock. There wasn’t much: some wine, a loaf of bread and a bit of honey. Kassandra hoped it would be enough to appease the Gods.

“Gaia, Mother of all, I greet you,” she pressed her lips to his forehead, tears running down her cheeks when she blinked. “ _Aniazō_.”

She had never been particularly devout, yet she stayed in the Forge for three days, burning incense and praying for Alexios’ safe passage into the Underworld, hoping Persephone would greet him in Elysium.

After all the horrors the Cult had put him through, the last thing he deserved was to be thrown in Tartaros’ abyss. If it happened, she would trade her place with his. Whenever death came to claim her soul, Kassandra would take his place. She would fight Minos if he refused to listen, fight them all to drag him out of there. She would endure eternal torments and agony, if it meant Alexios got to find peace. She wouldn’t fail. Not this time.

Before she left, Kassandra placed his sword in its stone base frame. It gave an intense orange then green glow before fading to black.  

The Adrestia was exactly where she had left her, though Barnabas had followed her orders. The ship was resupplied, the crew well-rested and ready to go. She looked pale, cheeks gaunt and dark circles under bloodshot eyes, but no one dared to say anything when she stepped on deck. Kassandra kept to herself for most of the day until Barnabas approached her cautiously.

“Where to, Commander?” there was still that odd glint in his eye.

It’s not what he wanted to say, she knew. He wanted to comfort her, give her a hug, tell her it wasn’t her fault, that Alexios had been too far gone and she had made the right call. Shallow words of comfort. She loved Barnabas dearly, but she didn’t want to hear them. She did not want to hear any of it.

“We still have Cultists to kill,” Kassandra said with a faraway look towards the horizon. “Set sails for Chios.”

The day Alexios died, the Eagle Bearer died with him.

It took decades of meticulously altered information that she tickled down every couple of years. Kassandra went back to Olympia one night to scrap her name off the Olympic Records. She did the same in Sparta fifty years later. Nikolaos and Myrinne had only one child; a son. She destroyed every single altar people had erected for her, every note that mentioned her by name and not by her moniker, paid silver tongues after silver tongues to sing the praises of Alexios, the mighty Eagle Bearer.

Two hundred years later, people still swapped stories and tales of his accomplishments in taverns while Kassandra of Sparta faded in the obscurity of time.

* * *

 

She took cover in a bush, observing the three guards near the open gate. They had their backs to her, aiming their weapons at a very aggravated Lara and a slumped Moss. Relief washed over her when she saw him, even though he looked extremely dehydrated and barely conscious. Lara was battered, from what she could see. Her lip was busted and there was a shallow gash on her cheek. She must have given them hell when they abducted her.

“Give him something to drink, at least,” Kassandra heard her say. 

One of the guards shifted on his feet before another one grabbed him by the arm and shook his head. She glared. _Asshole._

“Tosser,” Lara echoed her thought, which only earned her a hard kick in the stomach. With her hands bound behind her back, there was little she could do to protect herself. The young woman doubled over and fell to her side, coughing.

Kassandra’s blood was boiling. Those guys had no honor. She looked around for something to use in order to draw them away, but there was nothing. Glancing back, she noticed Lara’s arms shifting up and down, ever so slightly. Smart girl. With her body angled that way, they couldn’t see what she was doing. Kassandra gave her ten minutes before she cracked a branch and moved the bush.

Lara’s eyes snapped to attention, looking at the high herbs. She bit her lip, her arms moving faster when the guards turned around to check the noise.

The first one was only a meter way from her when Kassandra’s hands sprung out to drag him down. She tripped him and snapped his neck before taking one of the daggers at his belt to throw at the second one. He gurgled in surprise, clutching his throat before collapsing. She was less lucky with the third one. He was already aiming at her, finger on the trigger.

“Sto—”

Lara sprang into action, grabbing him in a chokehold from behind and plunging one of his knives to his spine several times. He fell backward, dying in a low growl.  

Kassandra pushed his body and hustled Lara on her feet. Both women stood there, wide-eyed and frozen in place.

“They told me you were dead,” Lara said in a hushed tone, completely baffled by her presence.

As if on cue, another coughing fit struck Kassandra. She leaned forward, hands on her knees to catch her breath. “A gross exaggeration,” she rasped, waving her arm when the archeologist approached, “I’m fine. Untie him.” 

She veered around, limping to reach the old man to cut his restraints. “Professor Moss?” Lara took his face in her hands. He blinked, blabbering incoherently under his breath before passing out again. “He is okay,” she turned to Kassandra. “But he needs medical assistance.”

She nodded, eyes shifting to the gate, “Take him and leave. I cleared the path to the boats,” and walked to the cave.

Lara quickly realized what her intentions were and leaped to grab her elbow. “Are you mad?”

Kassandra’s glare was scalding when their eyes met. “I will buy you time to make your escape.”

“You’re going to die.”

“I’m not going to die,” she hissed, visibly out of breath. “Just go.”

“Look at you,” Lara stood her ground, and glared just as intensely, gesturing at her weakened state. “You won’t make it out alive,” squeezing her elbow harder. “You are coming with us.”

That maláka was stubborn. “I am _not_ going to die, Lara,” she swatted her hand and sneered. “Don’t argue with me. This isn’t your fight,” before the other woman could protest or think over what she had just blurted, Kassandra grabbed the guards’ guns and shoved one in her hand. “Go. I will find you.”

Kassandra didn’t look back when she crossed the gate. She ran down the stony path, killing guards standing in her way until she reached the heart of the Forge.

“I was beginning to think I had made a mistake,” a woman stood in the center, near the pillars. “And that you were not who I thought you were,” she was young, maybe thirty, with wavy blonde hair, wearing a crisp grey pencil dress. A tad overdressed for the occasion. There was a gentle, almost innocent hue in her clear eyes when they met Kassandra’s. “I am happy to see I was wrong.”

“Who are you?”

The woman tilted her head. “Of course, you wouldn’t know,” and chuckled. “I’m a bit hurt, I must admit. But it’s not your fault, Kassandra,” her smile stretched, bordering on predatory. “Or should I call you Eagle Bearer? It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Her blood froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said through gritted teeth, hitching to shoot.

She tutted, like she wanted to say something before changing her mind. “If you say so,” her arms opened wide. “This place is beautiful isn’t it?” she went on. “Beautiful grave for a fallen warrior. The wreath was very thoughtful, by the way. Did you know it was still intact?” her tone was disturbingly casual.

Her nostrils flared, she was radiating with anger. “If you so much as touched him…”

“Oh,” the woman had the nerve to laugh and wave her hand. “There’s nothing to touch anymore, trust me,”

It made her skin crawl. Kassandra narrowed her eyes. “What do you want,” she closed the distance between them.

That smile again, infuriating and predatory. “You.” Threatening. “It should have been you. It should have been you all along.”

Before she had the time to shoot, a blazing light sent Kassandra flying a few meters away. She got to her feet quickly, eyes widening in horror when she saw the Apple of Eden the woman was holding.

It was too late to move, its glow had already targeted her. She had never been on the receiving end of a piece of Eden before. One of the artifacts had tried to overwhelm her after defeating Medusa, a defense mechanism created by the Isu themselves, but it did not compare to a frontal attack.

This was different, and it was terrifying. Like an out of body experience, Kassandra saw herself drop the gun and walk up to the woman. She tried to scream, tried to fight it in the confines of her mind, but it overpowered her with disconcerting ease.

“I apologize,” she caressed Kassandra’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “ _I didn’t want to kill you,”_ her voice was soft, almost reverent when it switched to Ancient Greek. “ _But it was the only way. I hope you forgive me_?”

Her mouth opened without her consent. _“I do.”_

 _“Good,”_ the woman stood on her toes to kiss the corner of her lips. _“Let us begin_ ,” and sliced Kassandra’s palm, drawing blood but no pain. She placed a small sphere on the wound. It shined green, growing in intensity once it made contact. _“We’ll h—”_

A bullet whizzed past Kassandra and buried itself in the woman’s shoulder. She cried out, the impact making her stagger backward and fall on the pillar behind them.

Lara jumped out of cover, dashing to catch her hand. “Let’s go!”

_“Don’t!”_

The light engulfed them both as soon as she touched Kassandra. They disappeared in a blinding flash.

* * *

 

Her head is spinning. She sees things. Visions? Memories?

Bouts of Yamatai. Sam up in the air screaming in agony as Himiko sucks her soul. Jacob, staring at a fireplace, a thoughtful look on his sad face. The Immortals charging at her. Konstantin, mad and smiling.

A raging thunderstorm and a baby thrown off a mountain. Kassandra, younger, sneering dangerously, looking pale, gaunt. All fury and rage twirling and twisting in those haunted amber eyes, wearing an armor that shines white, and gold, and black. Her face morphs into that of a man she has never seen before.

A little girl clutching a wooden bird to her chest, lost, confused. Dead.

Battles. People, strangers, laughter, kisses and loving embraces. Death. So much death.

Amelia, Richard, Roth, Alex, Grimm... They are all there, all of them. They cry, they scream. Pleading, imploring her to _do_ something.

She blacks out.

-0-

 

The first things Kassandra heard before opening her eyes were the shriek of an eagle and the chirping of birds. Above them were other noises, steady clomping in the distance like she was underwater, the burbling of a stream much closer.

It smelled of dirt, scented incense, burnt wood and the forest. Of home.

She jerked awake, squinting at the sun’s glare before yet another coughing fit rocked her body. Kassandra shifted to the side, spitting the bitter aftertaste out of her mouth. “Maláka…” at least, she had regained control of her mind.

There was a grunt behind her. She pivoted, half crawling towards Lara’s sprawled form.

“Are you okay?” she reached with her wounded hand, leaving a trail of blood on her shoulder.

“I think so…” Lara rasped. Her body felt like it had been rolled over by a truck.  “Where—”

_“Out of the way, malákes!”_

Kassandra had just enough time to grab her and roll before both of them got promptly trampled. She glared at galloping figure. _“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”_

Lara blinked up at her. “What?”

Kassandra was still reeling. “Didn’t you see? He was going to kill us with his idiot hor—” her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh.”

Wait.

The smells, the sounds, all too familiar she thought it was another cruel dream. Kassandra jumped to her feet to look around them, mouth agape. She felt dizzy, her heart hammering in her ribcage.

“It can’t be…”

And yet here they were, on a cliff overlooking the temple of Apollo that looked exactly like she remembered it more than two thousand years ago.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go, the story is finally taking off and living up to its time-traveling lesbians tag. Buckle up, peeps!
> 
> Kassandra is a smug asshole (and I love her for it). She’s always like “Wassup, I'm the eagle bearer blah blah blah, I did this and defeated that, let’s make out <3” she basks in praise and glory. She doesn’t want to be forgotten. Writing this, I felt that leaving it all to Alexios was her way to atone for what she had done. Her ultimate sacrifice to him in a weird sense.
> 
> Re: about immortality, I went back and forth on how to work it in a way that felt somewhat realistic (lol). I didn’t want her to be shot at and just walk it out, or fall in a vicious spiral of “welp, guess I’ll die and come back to kick ass,” that’s why I made the process painful. Hope it’s not too confusing
> 
> Poetry bits are taken from Joachim le Bellay’s book _Les Regrets_ ; it’s an official translation of Heureux qui comme Ulysse (Odysseus) a fait bon voyage. I didn’t want to try my hand at translating it because translating poetry is… uh. No. But it’s a beautiful one, check it out.


	5. Chapitre Cinq

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ubisoft introduced a new Story Mode during E3. Someone please, please write an epic love quest for Daphnae so she and Kass can have the happy ending they deserve. Also, a quest to Spartan kick Natakas’s perpetual Sadface™ off a cliff would be 100% appreciated. Just sayin’. 
> 
> THANK YOU for the support, the comments and kudos. Seems some of you didn't expect that twist :) Time-traveling lesbians ahoy!
> 
> I had to write the intro of this chapter twice because I’m that one idiot who lets characters take over the plot and fuck it up into oblivion.
> 
> Small spoiler for TR's Nightmare DLC.

* * *

 

Really, now.

This day could not have ended any worse. Had she known how awry it would turn out to be, Lara would have grabbed a second serving of Kassandra’s casserole at lunch because it was really, really good. She ought to ask for the recipe, one day.

If she made it out alive, that is.

She had fought the men as soon as she had spotted them barging in the shooting range. Lara had managed to get five guards before one snuck behind her back and grazed her leg with a hidden blade. The rest was still blurry, though she remembered being knocked out, waking up tied, only to be sedated again and manhandled from van to van for God knows how long. From the sounds it was making, this one had a loose tire and was dripping oil.

(Roth would be proud.)

Either the road was bumpy, or the driver was deliberately rolling into each and every pothole in existence. A particularly hard one had woken her up, and with how hazy she felt, each hump was an invitation to throw up. Lara remained as still as possible, least she could hear what they were saying. Most of it was just muffled, mundane conversation, though something caught her attention:

“Heard they found him in a cave near Sparta. Blade in his heart.”

“The bitch did that,” another bump punctuated his angry outburst. “I wish I'd been on the bravo team. I wanted to see her writhe and die like a fucking dog.”

“They got her?”

“Last I heard, they did.”

Lara’s heart skipped a beat. _Kassandra…_ she hoped to God that her hunch was wrong. They could be talking about someone else. Maybe. Hopefully. She wriggled around, testing her restraints again. Double knots, digging in her wrists, no zip-tie. It was made especially so that every move would rub against her raw skin. Bastards. Lara winced, trying to shift to the other side to relieve her wounded leg.

“Dude!” the man’s voice made her stop halfway. “The fuck? Don’t show me that! It’s nasty.”

“Calm your tits, it’s just a picture,” there was a chuckle. “She died with her eyes open, fucking A. I hope maggots eat them first.”

She wanted to barf. What kind of sick individual got excited over the picture of a corpse? If she managed to escape, Lara would make sure to incapacitate the man, just because.

She got a lucky shot at kicking his nose in with the heel of her boot before the other guard caught her cheek in a hard punch. They sedated her again to switch cars. At least, she had the satisfaction of hearing him howl in pain before everything went dark.

Lara woke up a while later, bound to a chair in a room. It was bare, save for the table and empty chair in front of her. Large pipes crossed the ceiling. Were they underground? She moved her arms; surprised to find they'd had the decency to bandage her raw wrists but did not extend the courtesy to her leg. A vicious way to make sure she wouldn’t go far if she escaped. The holds were not as tight, but they didn’t leave much wriggling room. She was debating the pros and cons of breaking a thumb to make her escape when the door in front of her opened, allowing two guards and a blonde woman to walk in.

“I am happy to see you are awake, Miss Croft,” her smile faltered when she took a better look at the archeologist. “I apologize for my staff’s overzealousness. Unfortunately, they have been on edge as of late, and your reputation precedes you. They were only being careful.”

“Assault is being careful?” she spat gruffly. “How about asking me, first?”

The woman let out a small muffled laugh, visibly amused. “Leave us,” she ordered to the men near the door before tugging the empty chair and sitting. “Fair enough. Maybe an email next time?”

Lara decided not to humor her. There would be no next time.

“I see,” her smile was back. It was unsettling. “Believe it or not, we do not wish to harm you, or Sebastian Moss.”

Her breath hitched, leg bobbing up and down with nerves. “Where is he?”

“Alive,” she said, tilting her head and rolling something in her palm. “Thanks to you,” Lara’s confused frown prompted her to continue. “Without your involvement, we wouldn’t have found what we were looking for.”

It didn’t make sense, she hadn’t found the Eagle Bearer’s tomb. If anything, her research had stalled ever since she had set foot in Greece. One step forward two steps back.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” her eyes narrowed despite genuine confusion.

“Of course, you wouldn’t,” there was another chuckle, followed by a contemplative look and a low hum. “Tell me about that mercenary you’ve met.”

Lara forced herself to keep a blank face. “No,” the other woman nodded, expecting her answer. “If anything hap—”

A dangerous glint flashed in those clear eyes, fleeting, but clearly there. “Careful, Miss Croft. My kindness does have its limits.”

“Where is she?” Lara ignored the tiny veiled threat.

The woman glanced at the vial in her hand again. “Dead, most certainly, I am afraid,” she looked genuinely pained. 

Lara closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. Yet another one who had died because of her. Reyes’ words never rang truer. _Seems anyone caught with you has a pretty low survival rate._ 'Better keep your distance then’, she had snapped back, angry and emotional, despite Sam’s gentle squeeze and murmurs to calm her down. She had been on edge, heartbroken, having lost Roth and Alex back to back. Forced to leave him behind, to die like the hero he had convinced himself he wanted to be. Those words still haunted her, even after all these years. They had forced her into isolation in a misguided effort to protect those that remained. 

It was exactly why she never wanted Sam to tag along, even after patching things up, even after she said she knew the risks. Kassandra knew them too. Hell, she was prepared and look where that got her. Another name to her body count. Someone else to haunt her at night, to ask her why she wasn’t there, why she didn’t help, why she didn’t try harder. Why she  _failed_.

Sometimes, not often but sometimes, she wished she had pulled the trigger in that jungle in Peru. She wished she’d had the strength to end it all.

“I don’t believe Kassandra would have provided us with this on her own volition.”

That jolted her back immediately. The woman held the vial between her thumb and forefinger. Blood. Confusion must have shown on her face, because the next thing she did was give Lara a look that was so condescending, it made her blood boil.

“You really have no idea, do you? Cute.”

And she had really no idea how much Lara wanted to slap that smile off her sodding face.

“Again,” she continued, crossing her arms on the table. “I should thank you, really. You are the reason she came out of hiding. You don’t know how long we’ve been looking for her.”

The riddles were starting to get on her nerves. Her frustration and anger must have been plain as day, because the woman chuckled again. “Why the interest?”

“I could ask you the same,” hand in a fist to support her chin. “Not your typical mercenary, is she?”

Lara stared at her silently. The declaration didn’t sound hateful, or like someone seeking revenge. Admirative?

“I am a bit envious, truth be told,” the light in her eyes changed, as did her demeanor. She seemed almost timid, “You did get to spend a lot time with her.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Lara rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should have tried asking her out instead of killing her.”

Her attempt to get a rise out of the woman fell completely flat. All she got was a coy smile when her eyes crinkled. “Maybe.”

“What do you want?” she was tired of her games.

“From you?” the woman laughed. “Nothing, really,” her tone was laced with contempt.

The nonchalance was absolutely grating. Why did she need Lara for, then? Why keep Moss when they already had what they wanted? Why kill Kassandra?

“Oblivious, aren’t you?” she was taking a twisted, malicious delight at Lara’s confusion.

Well. That was downright insulting.

“It’s not really your fault,” the woman continued before standing up. “I guess you will understand soon enough.”

 

* * *

 

Kassandra was completely frozen. It’s impossible. It had to be a trick of her mind, maybe a simulation? Another one of Aletheia’s tests? The animus? She took a fistful of dirt. It was dry, seeping through her fingers. It didn’t mean anything, though. The Isu were known to create intricate universes. Illusions. It felt real, smelled like it too, but it didn’t mean it was.

They needed to talk, Aletheia would know what was happening. Kassandra focused, calling on the Staff’s power. She had never tried to initiate a communication with her before, but their connection couldn’t be one-sided, could it?

_Aletheia?_

She couldn’t feel her presence at all. No rush of power, not even the usual low buzz. Kassandra tried again, rummaging in the depth of her mind as panic slowly rose within her. Her last desperate attempt was to open her hand in order to summon the Staff, despite being out in the open.

Nothing.

Her fist closed and fell at her side, dread was making her heart race and her palms clammy. Her left hand went to her neck, touching the pendant. It was still there, which meant the Staff was here; it was keeping her alive. It just refused to appear, as if its powers were subdued.

That was bad. That was really bad. If she couldn’t invoke the Staff or use its powers, she was…

“Where are we?”

 _Maláka!_ She tensed, veered around and was on Lara in three large steps. “You,” fingers jabbing at her shoulder. “What was that out there?”

Lara’s eyes narrowed. “I came back for yo—”

“I didn’t ask you to,” she cut her off, anger getting the best of her. “In fact, I distinctly remember telling you to leave!”

Shoving her might have been a wee bit over the top, but again Lara had a knack to drive her up the wall like no other. It was ridiculous how easily it was for the archeologist to enrage Kassandra. She should make it a sport.

The young woman pushed her back just as hard, making her stumble a bit. “Clearly you were in control of the situation,” she spat.

“I was!” it was a lie and they both knew it. “You shouldn’t have come back. What about Moss?”

Lara did not waver, but she still looked down for a second. “I left him in the boat, I thought—”

Kassandra threw her arms in the air. “Of course, you did,” she turned around, grabbed a rock and threw it away in frustration. “ _Maláka_!”

It ricocheted on a tree trunk and startled the birds perched lazily on its branches. They took flight with loud, indignant shrieks. She started coughing again, wheezing out expletives in Greek. Bile rose from her stomach, Kassandra fell to her knees, heaved and emptied her stomach right there.

Great. Just great.

Lara’s initial anger was quickly replaced with concern as she looked at her slumped form. She approached slowly, putting a hand on her hunched back. “What happened to you?” Kassandra tried to speak but choked on her saliva instead. “Come on,” she grabbed her and wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist to ease her up. “Let’s find somewhere you can rest.”

There was a village, a couple of hours away. Salt people and sailors, if she remembered correctly. The temple was still in construction from what Kassandra had seen and Miletus was a day or two away. All too far for them to get there, considering their weakened state. Lara led them towards the forest, going deeper into it until they found a small cave.

Old bones were littered around, hopefully the den wasn’t used by a bear or a wolf. Kassandra was in no shape to fight, and with her leg, Lara was not faring much better. They both leaned on the wall at the far end of the entrance, drained and out of breath. Neither moved for a good fifteen minutes, trying to get their bearings.

The coughing had calmed down. With the adrenaline finally wearing off, exhaustion caught up with Kassandra and she started shivering. Night would be falling soon. “We need to make a fire,” she sighed, finding purchase on the wall as she tried to stand up.

Lara stopped her, shaking her head. “I’ll go,” she hopped on her good leg. “It’s a graze. Not deep,” she said at the other’s inquisitive look.

Kassandra hummed. “You’ll need medicine,” they didn’t have anything to ward off infections here, better not reach that point. She rummaged in her head for a bit. “There’s a plant. A natural antiseptic that grows around those caves. Looks grey and a bit moldy. See if you can find some.”

She must have drifted off without realizing it. When she opened her eyes again, Lara was assembling dried roots and wood in a neat pile, keeping a little bunch in her palm to start the fire. There were forest berries in an old cracked bowl (where she managed to find not only one but two was a mystery), water and leaves of the medicinal plant at arm’s reach.

Kassandra watched her fight with the dried branches with an odd kind of curiosity. Looking at her, you’d think they were on a hike somewhere and this was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe she was still dead and this was a vivid dream. Or one of the poison’s side effects.

“I won’t get this to light up if you keep staring,” there was an awkward grimace of a smile on her face when she glanced back. “Makes me nervous.”

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” Kassandra apologized and looked away. Popping a berry in her mouth made her feel queasy almost instantly but she forced herself to swallow it. It would be rude to spit it out when she wasn’t the one who had brought them food. She grabbed the other bowl and used a flat rock to crush some of the leaves, mixing them with a bit of water.

Dry wood started crackling, an orange hue illuminating the cave and drawing intricate shadows on the walls. “Here,” Lara muttered with a victorious grin, rubbing her hands close to the fire. “Much better.”

They were quiet for a long while, staring at the dancing flames.

“Take your pants off.”

Lara choked on the berry she had just swallowed and started coughing violently. “Pardon?” she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking back at her in shock.

Kassandra smirked, small and playful, lifting the bowl in her hand. “Medicine.”

“Oh,” Lara blinked at the ointment. “Right,” she grabbed it and stood up. “I—I will do it myself. Thank you.”

Kassandra’s eyebrows went up, “Really?” she chuckled when Lara awkwardly limped towards a dark corner. “Careful, it burns.”

After almost a month of cohabitation, one would think she would have gotten more comfortable. One was terribly wrong. Kassandra went from puzzled to utterly amused by her antics; even Daphnae hadn’t pushed it that far, despite holding on her virtue as leader of the Daughters of Artemis with fierce determination. Anglicanism had really made a number on the people of England, she mused. They used to be a lot less… prude when Vikings occupied their lands.

Kassandra heard a whimper followed by something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “I warned you,” she smiled at the shadowed corner.

Lara came back a few minutes later, sitting down next to her with a grimace. “Thank you,” whether that was meant ironically or not, she couldn’t tell. “So…” she tried again for the third time. “What happened to you?”

With the way she was being stared that, it became obvious to Kassandra that she would not be able to deflect the question this time. “What do you mean?” 

A valiant attempt, even if it was in vain.  Lara’s gaze didn’t waver. “Kassandra…”

It wasn’t harsh per se, but the glint in the archeologist’s eyes told her she wouldn’t take her bullshit.

Kassandra averted her gaze, focusing on spreading the rest of ointment on her open palm instead. “They poisoned me,” she hissed at the burning sensation. “I barely made it,” one truth for one smallish lie.

The young woman threw some dry wood, watching as the flames swallowed it ravenously. “They said you had died,” with her face half in the shadows, the orange hue of the firelight made the lines of her jaw and nose stand out, more threatening.

A real predator, Kassandra mused.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” though it held no bite, she let the rhetorical question speak for itself.

That seemed to placate Lara for the moment, but something told her she would be poking at her soon enough. “That woman, she knew you. She interrogated me. About you.”

Her blood froze. How much did the archeologist know?

“I have never seen her in my life,” she replied honestly. “What did she say?” Kassandra kept her voice even, as inconspicuous as possible.

Lara poked at the fire, stroking it slowly, “She was cryptic, didn’t really make sense,” a shrug. “You got yourself a fan, though,” her eyes glinted when she looked back, lips curving up in a wry smile.

“I noticed,” Kassandra shook her head with a grimace. There was a time when she would have basked in it. Now it just made her uneasy and apprehensive. “She did something to my head, I couldn’t…” it was difficult to explain without going into details, but she tried. “She took control of me.”

Lara’s gaze was penetrating. Kassandra had expected to be drilled with questions following her revelation, to be interrogated on the Apple of Eden, on how she had known where to find them, maybe on the Forge, or just where she had learned to speak Ionic Greek when there was no recording of how people talked back then. Something. Anything.

The way she studied her silently made Kassandra feel even worse. Exposed, laid bare under a microscope, like she was an obscure piece of parchment the archeologist was trying to decipher.

She hated it.

Lara finally glanced away, allowing her to breathe more easily.

“You should get some rest,” was her only reply. “You look exhausted.”

-0-

 

Lara didn’t sleep a wink.

Fatigue knocked Kassandra out almost instantly, leaving her alone with her thoughts. There was just so much to process.

One: they were in a cave in the middle of nowhere, Greece.

Two: she was practically sure Kassandra was the Eagle Bearer. Or had known him. She wasn’t quite certain about that part, yet. In any case, there was a link between them.

Three: if assumption two was correct, it meant she was roughly two thousand and a half years old, which would explain a lot of things.

Small details Lara had noticed but disregarded, like how not a single one of her scars looked like it had been made by a firearm, despite being a mercenary. Knives (swords?), claws maybe? The odd tidbits she would blurt about a historical event, like she had been there. The underlying fondness that laced her words when they had talked about Hippokrates and his role in finding a cure for the plague that had killed one third of Athens during the Peloponnesian War. Fondness Lara had originally mistaken for the awestruck admiration of someone who had only read about it.

How reluctant she’d been about looking for the Eagle Bearer’s tomb.

The vague responses, half-truths… it all made sense.

Then came the obvious questions: how was she still alive? Jacob came to mind, Lara wished she’d had more time to talk with him, to ask about the Divine Source, how it worked, how it was made, whether someone had found it before she and Trinity did. Maybe Kassandra had been part of the Remnants and left before the archeologist had discovered their village?

Lara shook her head; he’d have mentioned her somehow.

And if she really was the Eagle Bearer, then who was buried in that cave?

There was so much she wanted to ask, but Lara had no idea how to broach the subject without Kassandra being up in arms. Thoughts kept swirling around in her head until the early morning light filtered through cave entrance, casting it in a blue-tinted hue.

She shifted to her back, looking to the side. Kassandra was still asleep, curled in ball, long limbs huddled close to her body to keep warm. She could see the occasional shiver, but the woman looked to be sound asleep. She got up, tearing a piece of paper from her journal to write a quick note and slipped out the cave in silence.

Lara sat near the entrance and emptied her pockets. Knives she had stolen from one of the guards, the gun Kassandra had given her, her journal, a small lamp, plus the flask in the cave. That was the extent of what they had. Kassandra hadn’t been carrying anything with her.

“Okay,” she muttered with a sigh, looking around; time to prepare.

It took her a couple of hours of scooting and salvaging to make new gear. It wasn’t much, a makeshift spear with one of the knives, the skeleton of a bow and the essentials to craft arrows. The strings she managed to get from tree barks were too thin or worn out to be used on the bow, they would tear easily. Lara used them to make a small trap, hoping to catch one of the rodents she had seen roaming around near the stream yesterday.

Once the trap was in place, she climbed on the nearby tree and waited. Her lips were set in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she stared at it from her position. She took deeper, slower inhales, crouched and ready to lunge should the opportunity arise.

There was a long shriek above her, but Lara paid it no mind. Not until a flapping blur of feathery wings flew right past her and broke her focus. The woman startled, grabbing on the trunk to keep herself from tumbling down. The bird circled back and landed on one of the branches just above her.

Lara blinked incredulously; she had never seen a wild bird come so close to a human before, let alone an eagle. It stared back, its contemplative eyes giving it the look of a very judgmental old man. The same critical stare Winston used to give her when she came back home after she’d been scolded at school. She shook her head and refocused on the trap beneath them. It screeched to get her attention. Lara ignored it. Another shriek, louder this time.

“Shh,” she moved the branches around, hoping it would be enough to scare the bird away without alerting the other animals.

All she got was more flapping as it flew above her to set itself on the opposite branch. When her hand wrapped around that one, its beak opened, wings half-stretched with one foot up, toes spread out menacingly, ready to claw at her fingers. It gave her a long distrustful look, its head titled in a way that clearly meant ‘don’t you dare’.

“I _will_ eat you, I swear,” she hissed in a hushed voice. “Leave.”

Roth had brought her on a hike in the States when she was eighteen. One that was more akin to a survival trek in the wilderness than anything, really, but Lara had been excited, nonetheless. That summer, he had taught her how to track animals and hunt for food. She had been a bit squeamish about the whole ordeal, on the verge of passing out when she had accidentally killed an eagle with her bow. The bird had surged from the sky to try and steal the rabbit she’d been pursuing, right as she released the arrow. Roth had shaken his head, stifling his laughter behind a gruff cough.

“You just caught our dinner,” he’d said. “Good job, Lara.”

She’d looked back with wide eyes. “We’re not eating that! It’s not legal!”

Legal or not, Roth had shrugged and showed her how to pluck it all the same. The eagle ended up roasting on a makeshift wood grate he had her make over the fire. It tasted awful and smelled just as vile. Black, gamey, chewy chunks of lean meat that made her heave and wish he had allowed her to bring protein bars. A lesson she would never forget. Nope to eagle meat. Never again. Sucking on rocks would taste better than this.

Her threat seemed to work on that one though. It took flight with an aggravated shriek, leaving her alone. Or so she thought. It circled back about an hour later, after her third failed attempt at catching a hare, just as Lara jumped down to put the trap back in place.

The eagle tossed a freshly killed rabbit at her feet and perched up on a branch to fluff its feathers and give her what she could only interpret as a look of contempt before it flew away again.

“Stupid bird.” 

-0-

 

Lara coming back with a rabbit dangling from her hand was the most puzzling sight Kassandra had seen all day. That, and the fact that she wasn’t limping anymore. The ointment had worked wonders.

“You caught it with a knife?” her eyebrows went up. Impressive.

“I wish,” she shook her head, lifting her arm. “But no,” and settled next to her to prepare it. “An eagle dropped it,” there was a scowl on her face when she said that.

_Ikaros._

Kassandra thought she had been dreaming at first, but she was wide awake now and she could still feel his presence at the back of her mind. He was here—there somewhere and he’d sensed her, too.

She had woken up, eyes brimming with unshed tears, relieved Lara wasn’t there to witness how shaken she had been. After so long, the void of his death had been filled, their bond strong as ever, like it had never been severed. Kassandra refused to allow herself in his head, despite his curious poking and gentle tugging at the threads of her mind. He was intrigued, she could feel it, but the risk was too great for now. At least he wasn’t attacking on sight.

Lara’s eyes were on her, waiting for her comment. Kassandra needed a diversion, something to deflect and quick. Joke. A joke was good.

“We must be a very sorry sight if the fauna is banding together to make sure we survive.”

“It’s true, you don’t look too hot right now.”

Wow. Rude.

“Excuse me?”  Kassandra was so dumbfounded that she burst out laughing, which incidentally led to more coughing. Though, it was not as bad as yesterday. “I almost died, remember?”

She did, in fact, die.

Lara was grinning from ear to ear next to her, deft fingers peeling off the skin with her knife to separate it from the meat. “You mentioned that.”

Big smiles suited her, Kassandra observed. They made her look younger, less haunted.

“I feel better, thank you for asking, by the way,” she was still flabbergasted. Who would have known there was a sense of humor hiding under that ponytail? “Who taught you?” she pointed at the skinned rabbit Lara was emptying.

She looked up but didn’t stop her motions, “My guardian,” putting the innards aside. “He taught me how to use a bow, too.”

Lara didn’t say anymore, and Kassandra decided not to push it either. Both had grown without parents; different fates but the same outcome. Though the archeologist had had someone, a mentor of sorts. Markos was the closest thing to it that Kassandra ever had after fleeing Sparta. And that wasn’t saying much.

He had used her for his own benefits more than anything. Although, there were times when he would have that one awkward gesture, that warm light in his eyes that cajoled and comforted her. As a child, she would jump and latch on these rare displays like a starved animal, until she taught herself not to do it anymore. Because it stung, it sliced and burnt whenever she realized his affections were, in fact, a ploy, another smokescreen to his self-serving schemes.

_"You do this for me, I do this for you!"  
_

Kassandra shook her head, forcing herself to steer away from those thoughts. She decided to keep busy and started crafting arrows, using the supplies Lara had brought. The task completely absorbed her, to the point that she startled when the other woman spoke.

“How long are we going to do this?”

“Do what,” she replied absentmindedly, focused on notching the arrowhead she had shaped.

There was a long sigh next to her, followed by more silence. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-two,” her eyebrows came together. The tip was still too big to fit, but if she tightened the knot, it wouldn’t be an issue.

She could feel Lara’s scrutinizing gaze on her and stubbornly refused to meet her eyes. She wouldn’t expose herself.

“Kassandra,” the young woman had shifted away from the open fire to face her. “How old are you?” she asked again.

Her hand shook, disturbing the balance of her fingers and almost slicing her index on the arrowhead. She put it down and lifted her head slowly. “Thirty. Two,” her nostrils flared.

“Look,” Lara was visibly exasperated by her answer, and it showed. She put the knife she’d been using to sear the meat aside. “We don’t have time for games. Professor Moss is in danger, so either you talk, and we can move on,” her hand went up in a pacifying gesture when Kassandra’s jaw clenched and her shoulders squared. “Or you don’t, and I will find out myself.”

Well, the cat was out.

“You don’t understand…”

“You’re not helping _me_ understand,” she said. “That’s different.”

“No,” Kassandra shook her head. “I was serious back there, this isn’t your fight, Lara. Don’t get involved.”

She gestured at their surroundings and scoffed. “You don’t think it’s a little too late for that?” pausing, then adding, “And before you say anything else, I can fend for myself.”

Kassandra looked away for a second. “I don’t doubt it,” her reply was deliberately soft. She had seen Lara in action, that wasn’t the point.

The young woman closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “I will ask you once,” she began quietly, “And only once.”

“Lara…”

She ignored her. “Lie to me, and I will leave. I don’t care how long it takes, but I will find a way out of here. Alone.”

The underlying meaning was not lost on her. The archeologist already knew, it was not about the truth, Lara couldn’t care less about it, it was deeper than that. Only then did Kassandra understand the reason behind her abnormal mutism of last night. Why she hadn’t asked her anything, why she had been the one to end their conversation.  

Trust.

Her trust. That was what Lara was asking for.

“Are you the Eagle Bearer?”

* * *

 

Kassandra squinted at the sky. Ikaros was just a tiny black spot in the horizon but he was flying fast, she could see the spot growing steadily.

“Where were you, my friend,” she muttered quietly. He usually followed when she was at sea, though the eagle would drift away sometimes; never for too long, never too far. Not enough for her to notice anyway.

Kassandra had been too busy planning her next course with Barnabas and Herodotos to take note right away. Then, she had to climb all the way up the mast to unknot one of the sails that had not survived last night’s storm. She could have left it to one of the crew members, but she preferred to move around when she was on the Adrestia. It was a good way to boost the crew’s morale when they saw her take part in the mundane tasks, and it helped her keep in shape while at sea.

It wasn’t until noon that she noticed Ikaros’ absence. Hadn’t thought much about it until more hours went by and dusk was creeping in. That was when she'd decided to gently poke his mind to see where he was. The Adrestia had appeared in her sights quasi instantly. He’d been flying from the east, and for a while; Kassandra could feel his exhaustion.

She blinked back to herself when Barnabas approached her.

“Kassandra!” the low rumble of his scratchy voice never ceased to make her smile. “What beautiful view. The Gods have certainly blessed us, after yesterday.”

“It is,” she nodded slowly.

The thick grey clouds that had loomed and rumbled threateningly over them as the Adrestia fought her way across the waves had all but vanished, leaving the sky a bright palette of blues and burning orange when the sun slowly disappeared.

Poseidon's mood swings were certainly legendary.  

Kassandra smiled despite herself, remembering how she'd painted Barnabas' sandals with the content of her stomach during her first storm. The mighty misthios on her first adventure.

Her face scrunched in a frown, recalling her earlier thoughts as Ikaros drew closer. “What’s over there?” she pointed towards the horizon with her chin.

“Uh,” he scratched his head. “Aside from Persians?” she nodded, leaving him a moment to think over. “Miletus, if I recall. Why?” he grinned, the lines of his cheeks arching in tiny creases. The harsh glare of the sun hadn’t been kind to his skin. “You want to visit?”

Kassandra pondered the question for a while, lifting her arm for Ikaros to land on. “No. Not right now,” he was careful to rest his talons on her gauntlet and not nip her skin. She scratched the crown of his head, cooing softly when he leaned in her touch. “Perhaps another time.”

Ikaros swung from foot to foot with a delighted chirp.

Barnabas looked at them with a fond smile. “At your command,” he bowed before grabbing her other arm to lead her away, “Now come, there’s wine to share and food to eat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. 
> 
> In fact, I rewrote this whole chapter twice because of that damned scene where Lara confronts Kassandra. I had them originally get into an argument, then I was like no, that's sad. They won't trust each other if they are upset. I thought about leaving Kassandra's identity in the dark for now but that'd have turned Lara into an absolute dumbass. She's not that oblivious, I mean, come on. So... yeah. I don't know, I'm still on the fence about that part. It was a tad complicated to come up with something that would make sense/advance the plot without making either one too OOC. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also: what happens when Kassandra and Lara meet past Kassandra? D-R-A-M-A


	6. Chapitre Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy mother of shit, 100+ kudos? What in the world, you guys?? THANK YOU. I have no words. I know I keep blabbering and all, but I'm speechless. The story is getting traction and your words, the speculations and everything, it's just so awesome. Thank you, thank you.
> 
> Few things before you start reading:
> 
> Suspension of disbelief, please; we'll all assume it took Lara a month++ to be somewhat functional (not super fluent) in Ancient Greek. If the devs can make you believe she learns dead languages of which she has no previous knowledge simply by reading pillars, so can I :D. It's mostly for formatting reasons, I don't want to switch back and forth between italicized dialogues for the upcoming chapters. If there is no mention, just assume they are using Greek. I made it obvious when they spoke English. 
> 
> A bit of Daphandra in this chapter because I ship them very, very hard and I’m forever salty at that sad ending. 
> 
> Also fair warning: mention of that one DLC that shall not be named. I just had a lot of feelings I needed to lay down. More on that on the bottom notes.

 

Kassandra was absolutely adamant on Lara getting a decent grasp of Ancient Greek. It was her non-negotiable requirement before they started their journey. In the meantime, they had turned the cave into a small camp that was on the verge of cozy, if one squinted. When her body fully recovered, Kassandra began scouting the area at night, sneaking around unsuspecting travelers and blacksmiths on their way to Melitus, to steal clothes or armor parts, only the essentials to blend in.

She had gathered small pile near the fire that Lara ogled with childlike excitement almost every time after coming back from a hunt. She would sit by one of the walls and take a gauntlet or a breastplate, mumbling to herself, marveling at the craftmanship while taking notes in her journal or fire shooting questions at Kassandra.

“What else do they use?” this particular boot was heavy in her hand. A bit impractical if one needed to move fast.

“Melted obsidian glass, for double protection, and precious gems,” she pointed behind her back. “You can find some in there.”

That was enough to make her dash further in the cave and come back with even more questions. She would go on for hours, happy to sit, reference everything with meticulous attention and write it down. Kassandra half-listened to her speaking. It was her eagerness to learn about the most unassuming detail that made her smile, sometimes. A child in a candy shop.

Though, she was quick to cut it out every time Lara asked when they would finally leave their camp to meet the World.

“Not today,” she would always say, following intensive language lectures.

Staying put and avoiding all that bubbling civilization was making the young woman itch all over. Nonetheless, Kassandra wouldn’t relent as long as Lara still expressed herself like a toddler, she said, which did sting a little.

 _“Can you pass over the grease?”_ she was sitting cross-legged by the fire they had started outside. It was getting too hot to stay in, and the stars were nice. She had missed looking at them before sleeping. Modern age wasn’t really keen on quiet contemplation.

Lara’s eyes narrowed. She went over the words slowly, dismantling, rearranging, shifting them in her brain until they made sense. The whole process took a few minutes. She reached for the antlers they had taken from a deer a couple of days ago and gave them to Kassandra.

“Almost,” her lips pursed. “It was the _grease_ ,” she pointed at it, frowning when Lara’s shoulders sagged. “You’re getting there,” a little encouragement always went a long way.

Lara wasn’t receptive to it at all though. Her stiff posture and creased eyebrows underlined her irritation. “Right.”

“Really,” she insisted, placing the antlers back. They could sell them for a good price once they left for Miletus. Or make an ornament for the archeologist’s bow. “Cut yourself some slack, this isn’t easy. You’re doing great.”

“You don’t need to cajole me,” right then, Lara looked every bit like a fussy Phoibe, eyes downcast at the rock she was poking with her finger.

She fought it, but it still made her smile all the same. “I am not cajoling you. I don’t do cajoling,” a yawn sneaked its way out of her. The day had been long. “Just talking from experience,” she finished with a long sigh after stretching until the joint in her arm gave a satisfying pop.

Lara stopped her motions to look up quietly. It dawned on her that Kassandra, with her two thousand years of living, must have learned every variation, dialect and evolution of languages she needed to use. Even her own native tongue had been subjected to radical changes. Ionic Greek sounded nothing like modern Greek to Lara’s ears.

“How many languages do you know?”

There was a glint of wonder in those eyes. An avid curiosity that made Kassandra thoroughly ill at ease when it was directed at her and not a relic. Oh, how she’d have taken advantage of it some two thousand years ago. Daphnae had looked at her like that, she remembered, after her second hunt.

Daphnae.

She had been on her mind more often now. Kassandra hadn’t stopped to wonder _when_ they were exactly, if she would find the huntress on Chios with the rest of her sisters, or Phokis by the temple of Artemis where they had first met.

Her face when Kassandra had leaped off the edge of the building, noticing the woman walking out of the temple a tad too late, had been priceless. Flailing her arms around to cushion the fall proved to be a futile endeavor. Kassandra had landed heavily on her, both of them tumbling and rolling until she was on top. She hadn’t had the time to apologize that Daphnae had already kneed and sent her flying above her, getting to her feet in a swift jump, with a sword at the ready. Gorgeous eyes flashing with danger.

_“Who are you? Speak!”_

Kassandra had been transfixed by them. She had never seen anyone with such a vibrant color before, not even in Sparta. As beautiful as they were, Daphnae’s scowl had been enough of a deterrent to try and charm her way out of this. She hadn’t drawn her spear, but her words had carried just as much threat.

 _“A traveler. I’m not here to start trouble, but if that’s what you want,”_ her posture had shifted ever so slightly. _“I’ll end it.”_

Daphnae’s sword hadn’t moved _. “This is sacred ground. You should not be here.”_

Who would have known that those words would seal both of their fates?

Blinking back to the present, Kassandra remembered Lara’s question “Many,” she said. “But it’s more of a passive learning thing.”

The mighty Eagle Bearer would never have downplayed her accomplishments. Not in a thousand years. The Keeper, though, showed a bit of humility.

She certainly had grown in all this time.

“Keep practicing,” she pointed at Lara’s journal. It had been turned into a small dictionary the archeologist used. “You will improve,” another yawn came out of her mouth. She sighed deeply, getting to her feet for her night round check before sleeping. “Good night,” she said, but Lara was already deep in her learning and not paying attention.

“Good night,” she muttered to the emptiness, minutes later.

* * *

 

Kassandra cracked one eye open and closed it right away. Too early, she decided. The wet, earthy scent of the forest wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. Or maybe it was Daphnae’s arm across her back, fingers running up and down her spine. Kassandra’s body reacted, chasing the touch, baby hair rising to attention when the pads of the huntress’s fingers ran across her skin.

The temple was quiet, the forest around them still asleep, yet Daphnae was wide awake. Ready for her first offering to Artemis, Kassandra had been around long enough to know her routine by now.

“You are awake,” she murmured, peppering her shoulder blades with feathery kisses, her hair drawing ghost caresses as she leaned over.  

There was a long silence, a smile tugging at Kassandra’s lips. At her heart, too. This was nice. This was really nice. “Hardly.”

It came out as a croak that made Daphnae’s body shake with a chuckle above her, the vibrations reaching her own. Another long, wet kiss on her shoulder before the weight disappeared, leaving Kassandra uncovered. “Good morning, Hypnos.”

Hypnos. She would call her that sometimes, on days Kassandra’s voice took on a scratchy quality after sleeping. A smooth rumbling that was out of this world and 'could not possibly belong to the land of the living' as she had put it one night.

There was quiet, barely there ruffling near her. Daphnae always moved swiftly, effectively, even for the most mundane things. She wasn’t part of the Daughters of Artemis for nothing.

She wasn’t their leader for nothing.

“It’s still night,” Kassandra said in the pillow, shifting around to stare at Daphnae. She loved looking at her when the huntress was getting ready. “And I’m cold now,” she whined, stretching one arm at full length towards her. “Come baaack,” opening and closing her fist, beckoning, like a child trying to reach for her.

Daphnae’s lips curved up, both exasperated and amused by her antics, when she chanced a look. The other woman was glancing back with one eye buried in the pillow, a mischievous smirk on her face. “Kassandra…”

Kassandra. Not Beast Slayer. Always Kassandra when the night offered them those stolen moments.

Her smirk grew. “Come back to bed?”

“The Goddess does not wait,” she chastised half-heartedly, placing the last of her bracelets on her arm before turning around.

Kassandra wasn’t known to be patient either, she slipped out of the furs, unabashedly naked, and was on Daphnae in two steps, strong arms encircling her hips from behind. “Come back,” all honeyed voice and sweet kisses on her jaw.

She let it happen, closing her eyes, leaning in her tantalizing touch, her embrace. It was almost enough to break her resolve. Almost.

“I will be,” her fingers interwoven with Kassandra’s on her stomach, squeezing. “Before sunrise.”

She knew when not to push Daphnae, and so Kassandra relented, nodding in her shoulder and leaving one last kiss on her cheek. “Before sunrise,” she repeated.

Falling back asleep wasn’t too hard. Traveling from Keos after meeting Xenia had been a tiring, frustrating affair. Pirates trying to kill her to steal the Adrestia, and the obscene amount of drachmae their leader had asked her in exchange for information about Myrinne’s whereabouts had scratched the woman’s patience thin.

The only thing that had kept Kassandra from going on a crazy rampage at sea, besides Barnabas’ sound advice that the ship wouldn’t withstand the battles and the money would be better spent finding her mother than fixing the Adrestia, was Kallisto’s pelt. She would look at it every night, a wishful smile on her face. The bear was magnificent, of course, but it didn’t compare to how Daphnae’s face lighted up, to the warmth (love, but they did not speak of it. Love) in her eyes when she saw her, walking then running, tackling Kassandra to the ground. Deep laughter rising above the trees surrounding them.

“Beast Slayer,” a languid kiss, one that spoke of all the things Daphnae would not. “You are back.”

Kassandra, with her eyes glazed over and a silly smile could only nod. “Always.”

Always.

That night, like the other nights they spent together, Daphnae cooked, swatting Kassandra’s gentle hands away from her back, her hips, her arms, poking at her nose, stealing her lips for the barest of kisses. Leaning in her embrace when she finally, finally allowed them (herself) this touch.

Kassandra never pushed for more than what she was willingly giving. It wasn’t about their carnal desires — though she suspected the Eagle Bearer to meet her needs elsewhere. Maybe. Daphnae did not speak of it, she understood. She was the one who had devoted herself to the Goddess, not Kassandra. It wasn’t fair to hold it against her. Though a small part of her hoped she was wrong. That Kassandra longed for her caresses, yearned for her just as much as she did, that she wouldn’t let anyone but Daphnae touch her.

In another life. When their time was not numbered, slipping through the huntress’s fingers like water.

That first night after Kassandra came back with Kallisto’s pelt draped over her, that night she almost gave in. Kassandra had been naked, sprawled on her back, limbs sticking out, stretched at full length as was her habit when they were together, when she felt _safe_. They shared Daphnae’s furs, yet something had been different. An odd kind of tension she couldn’t shake, something akin to desperation, coming from the huntress.

Daphnae had kissed her deeply, wantonly, leaving her calloused hands roam over Kassandra’s skin, mapping her chest, squeezing one breast softly, had left open-mouthed kisses on her throat, going down, lower than she ever allowed herself to.

Kassandra had been squirming with want under her, hands clutching at the furs, the pillows, her own hair, hips moving with purpose against Daphnae’s stomach, to ease the rising tension in her loins.

Daphnae had almost given in. Had wanted to. Should have a long time ago. She loved Kassandra. She wanted her, so much that it hurt sometimes. The Gods surely had a sense of humor, Daphnae found herself getting angry at them, tears blurring her vision, biting at the woman’s hip, relishing in her whimpers and startled jolt, before soothing her skin with a wet tongue.

It was not fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

By some irrational temptation, she had been ready to give it all up, throw it away and allow herself the luxury of fully loving the woman who had stolen her heart. Her mouth was traveling down, leaving burning trails on Kassandra’s thighs before going up.

It would have happened, were it not for those gentle hands squishing her cheeks together, Kassandra bringing her all the way up to kiss her, soft and slow, quenching the raging fire inside with the careful swipes of her tongue.

“What are you doing,” she had whispered once they parted, pupils blown dark, a small but nervous smile on her face. “Daphnae?” she was shaking.

Want. Desire.

Even in this hazed state of lust, Kassandra was still thinking of her. Of her dedication. Daphnae had thought (hoped) she wouldn’t. Oh, how she had hoped. It would have saved both of their lives.

“I… I…” tears fell, Kassandra’s confused frown only deepening at her crumbling face and sobs.

Arms circling her, Kassandra’s body had wrapped around her like the vines on Artemis’ statue. Comforting and warm. “Shh,” she had kissed her temple, humming slowly until Daphnae’s sobs had subdued she fell asleep from exertion.

Daphnae leaving for a hunt gave Kassandra all the leisure to think back on the that first night. They hadn’t spoken of it, Daphnae pretended it didn’t happen, and she had followed. There was no reason to her knowledge that would have triggered such a reaction from the other woman.

Kassandra had gone over their interactions a thousand times, and nothing was out of the ordinary. Except maybe that split second Daphnae’s face had blanked when she saw the pelt?

“Only one beast to go,” Kassandra had joked with a proud nod.

“Yes,” she’d said. “Only one.”

It didn’t mean anything, did it? She bit her lip, they could see each other even after she hunted the Kretan Bull. Though, she was not looking forward to Messara’s arid mountains and roaming cheetahs. Only the thrill of fighting the legendary father of the Minotaur made this worth it. And Daphnae’s smile. Mostly Daphnae’s smile, though.

“I leave and I find you exactly where you were,” the very woman’s voice startled her out of her musings.

Kassandra turned her head, squinting at the first lights coming from outside. “Of course,” she replied with a frown. “Why would I move?” she stretched her arm, reaching for Daphnae’s hand to lead her down. They moved against the statue of Artemis, facing the open doors. She let the huntress settle between her legs, leaning on Kassandra’s front so they could watch the sunrise together.

They still had a few minutes, Daphnae took advantage of it to kiss Kassandra’s knuckles.

“Good hunt?”

She nodded wordlessly, leaning back on the other woman, craning her neck to kiss the small scar on her chin. “Will you help me prepare the offerings?”

Kassandra hummed. “That will be fifteen thousand drachmae,” she deadpanned.

They shook with laughter. “I think there is a camp near Keos, if you need my sisters,” her suggestion was met with a snort.

Daphnae had been absolutely enraged once Kassandra told her about Xenia’s deal, even more so than the misthios herself. Shaking her head, cussing the pirate to Tartaros and back. Who would withhold information about somebody’s mother for _drachmae_? To Kassandra’s utter amazement (pride, tenderness and a bit of fear thrown in), she had been ready to take her sword, sling on her bow and give Xenia a piece of her mind.

“Thank you,” Kassandra still laughed behind her, dropping a kiss on her crown. “But I’m trying to resolve this peacefully. I don’t want to overthrow her.”

She was brooding, visibly still upset. “She does not deserve your kindness.”

“And she doesn’t have it,” the other woman replied. “A deal is a deal, however. I promised.” Daphnae’s little huff made her smile and squeeze the huntress closer to her naked body. “I’m touched,” she joked to hide how flustered the woman's behavior was really making her feel. Hot and aroused beyond belief. 

“I care about you,” was Daphnae’s response.

She knew, but it still made her tingle and feel warm inside. _I love you,_ she thought, or maybe whispered, hoping the woman’s soft hair would swallow her words. _I love you so much._

“And I, you.”

* * *

 

A month. That’s what it took Lara to hear those sweet, sweet words:

“I think you’re ready for the big world,” Kassandra tapped her lap. But the megawatt smile the archeologist gave her made her reconsider. “One last thing before we leave: do _not_ gawk.”

That was enough to make Lara’s beaming expression turn into an affronted scowl. “I don’t gawk.”

She didn’t gawk, okay?

“Uh-uh,” Kassandra waved a finger. “We really need to blend in, Lara. I can’t have you getting all starry-eyed at everything.”

She was an archeologist for God’s sake, how the hell did Kassandra expect her to remain impassive? Not assaulting her with questions ever since she had revealed to be the Keeper (formerly known as Eagle Bearer, though she hated being called that, for some reason) was taking a lot of effort in its own right, but Lara had managed for the sake of their partnership/understanding. This, this was different. This was an ancient civilization the young woman had read about, dreamed of, and obsessed over since she was a little girl.

And Kassandra wanted her to just be stoic about the whole thing? There was so much to see, to study, so many people to meet, ask questions to…

“Lara. Please.”

Her scowl deepened, she averted her gaze and huffed. “Fine. I will try.”

“Good,” she seemed satisfied with her answer, already walking towards the pile of clothing and armor. “I can’t show my face, you will have to speak for the both of us,” she picked a chiton, and tore it to make a sleeve for her arm.

_What?!_

“What?” Lara gaped at her from where she sat, on a small log. This wasn’t part of the contract, this was not part of it _at all._

Kassandra was still messing with the clothes, wrapping a shroud around her head and chains on her arms as makeshift gauntlets. She let the good ones to Lara. “Yes,” she said, voice muffled by the veil covering her mouth. It would do until she found a mask. “People talk. If word gets out that I am here while I’m fighting in Boeotia or Attika at the same time, it will raise questions.”

Boeotia, Attika… it took a second for Lara to place them. Kassandra told her they were near Miletus now, in Modern-day Turkey. It was a little far from the Greek world as she understood it, but the city was one of the few where Persians and Greeks could trade somewhat peacefully. It was far enough from the Peloponnesian war not to affect business. Neither Sparta nor Athens wanted to sail this close to the Anatolian Peninsula and its Persian army. Not while they still fought one another.

“We don’t want to attract intention,” she finished, throwing a chiton towards her.

Lara caught it, eyes shifting from the clothes to the other woman dumbly. “It’s a dress.”

Kassandra’s eyebrows went up. “Yes, it’s light, perfect for the weather. Wear it under your armor.”

“No, thank you,” she was fully capable of fighting in cargo pants. They had extra _knee_ _padding_ and they cost one arm, there was no parting from those, Lara wasn’t just going to leave them in a cave. She received a shrug and a sigh. “Why do you need me to talk? I don’t know how to interact,” going back to her original concern, Lara was starting to panic. How the hell did Kassandra expect her to just up take it? This was going to be a disaster, a blabbering slaughter.

“Why do you think we’ve been practicing your _speaking_ skills for a month?” Kassandra asked and kneeled to put on the greaves over her own shoes.

With the leather breastplate she had donned above her chiton, the makeshift sleeve to cover the scars on her arm and the chains snaking around her wrists, she was starting to look the part. _A real misthios_ , Lara thought. It seemed to the archeologist that she also enjoyed it thoroughly. She had, after all, risen to the top tier of the chain, according to Professor Moss’ research. The most feared, the most sought after. Lara wondered how much of it was true but didn’t dare to ask.

“Besides,” Kassandra continued, oblivious to her musings. “I will be here. You’re not on your own. We’ll use Greek around people, and English together, when you are tired.”

That was… oddly considerate. It made her feel weird. Grateful; but weird. “Thank you,” she finally approached the pile. The other woman had let the sturdiest, nicest-looking pieces for her, for some reason. Lara grabbed everything and went in the cave to change, leaving her to break their camp.

She was not going to miss it.

They reached Miletus two days later, walking under the raging sun and next to no wind. Lara stared whenever a chariot passed them, until she met with Kassandra’s disapproving scowl that radiated even through the veil. She pretended not to see it, though she wondered why, every time they met people or walked by a house, the other woman would switch and walk behind her instead of leading. Just a few steps, nothing too noticeable.

It wasn’t until they reached the city that the epiphany hit Lara like a bag of bricks.

-0-

 

Going back, Kassandra mused, maybe she should have told Lara _why_ she had donned herself that way. Maybe she wouldn’t be sporting this ‘deer caught in headlights’ expression, looking absolutely _horrified_ at everything. Maybe they would not be in this situation if she had told her Miletus was known for its slave market. That wasn’t something you learned in History books.

Whoops.

It had started innocently, they were standing by a statue of Hera, Kassandra checking the board for contracts while Lara… did her thing. Stared. Mumbled about sculptural masterpieces that ‘were astonishing when one considered the tools they had back then, don’t you think?’ So much for blending in. She wasn’t really listening, but all it took was one suggestion about a bounty that looked like it could bring enough drachmae to buy passage on a ship to set everything _ablaze_.

“We are not killing somebody for money,” she had hissed lowly in English. “Are you crazy?”

“Lara,” Kassandra tried to reason with the archeologist. “Look, there are only two ways a woman can make drachmae here,” motioning with her hand. “You lay on your back, or you take a sword.”

“There has to be an alternative,” oh, how stubborn that maláka could be.

“There is _no_ alternative,” she replied. “You have a bow, use it,” Kassandra breathed, her chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. “Or don’t, I will. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to be there.”

But she wouldn’t relent, even taking a step forward with her eyes flashing in annoyance. “You aren’t killing anyone. I’m not killing anyone. We aren’t killing for _money_.”

They should have discussed the details back at the cave, because Kassandra was itching to punch her. Zeus so help her, she was going to knock her out and carry on. “It _is_ my jo—”

“Excuse me, foreigner?” an old, lanky man had interrupted them just then, looking back and forth between the two women but focused on Lara when he spoke. “Is this beast yours?”

Kassandra’s head whipped back. _Don’t you dare_ her eyes flashed dangerously, but he seemed totally oblivious to her threat.

“My…” Lara glanced at him, at her, then back at him. “Mine?”

“Yeesss. Your slave,” he said flatly. “Is it?”

He had just called her an it, hadn’t he? An _it_. Kassandra willed herself to breathe deeply and relax.

“I…” the archeologist was clearly at a loss.

She could understand her; how does someone who had never seen slavery up close until half an hour ago answer to that? Kassandra wanted to facepalm. They really should have talked about it. Scratch that, she wanted to faceplant Lara on the ground first for being so naïve about getting drachmae. Faceplant her, then facepalm.

The man’s grin was missing a few teeth. “How much?”

Kassandra’s lips were burning. She crossed her arms to ease the tension from her fists, hoping it would look threatening enough for that maláka to leave them alone.

“How much?” Lara repeated dumbly.

“Yeesss,” he drew the word again, getting impatient. “How much for her? I need help in the fields and she looks like she can carry a whole chariot.” he inspected Kassandra with a critical eye, poking at her exposed biceps with his bony fingers, like he would do to cattle. When she sidestepped and glared at him, he had the nerve to tut.

By Zeus, she was going to kill him. Free of charge.

Lara finally got herself out of it. She hadn’t understood everything; he spoke too fast, but she got the gist of it and did not like it one bit. “She isn’t for sale,” her tone was terse.

He was still examining Kassandra’s muscles, not looking at her when he said, “I have drachmae.”

“No.”

“Three hundred.”

“No.”

“Do you have a horse?” he tried. “I give you four hundred and a horse.”

“No,” he was going to bargain again but Lara cut him off. “I don’t think you understand, she is _not_ for sale,” the archeologist got in his space, hand on the grip of her makeshift climbing axe. A warning.

With their height difference, Lara stepping in front of her, ready to defend her honor looked all kinds of comical to Kassandra. She flexed her arms for good measure and stifled a snort.

The man scoffed at them. “No need to be rude,” he spat near Lara’s foot and walked away, grumbling about foreigners.

“While I am glad to know you wouldn’t trade me for a horse,” Kassandra muttered in English, watching him thread his way through the crowd. “He did offer a lot of drachmae.”

Enough to buy passage on a ship for Anaphi where they could reach Thera on a small boat.

Lara turned around in disbelief. “Really? A slave?”

“Blending in, remember? Nobody will look twice at me if they think I belong to _you_.” Kassandra shrugged. It’s true, the farmer hadn’t looked at her in the face, not even once. She walked back to the board. “Besides, you’re the one who wanted to make honest drachmae. Human trade is honest drachmae.”

Questionable, but honest.

She heard the young woman’s defeated sigh behind her. Lara was finally seeing her point. “Let’s find something a little less bloody. At least for now.”

It took them an obscene amount of time to gather enough money. Days of doing field work, threatening merchants who hadn’t paid their taxes in time and helping the odd mothers find her children in the forest; or retrieve their drunk husbands from the tavern. That one bounty could have covered it all, and then some, Kassandra kept grumbling as she sweated her way through hay for three poor drachmae a day.

The mighty Eagle Bearer reduced to a farm girl. Nice. What would her past self think of this? She would probably laugh. Ikaros hadn’t flown back since that first time, which meant they were both too far to travel back and forth. She still felt his presence though.

The market was swarming with people, gossiping about the war. Persians were still debating on whether to invade now that Greece was unstable, or wait until they killed each other and finish the weakened winner off. But Kassandra heard bits and pieces about a certain eagle-bearing misthios who had recently turned into a pirate and attacked every ship that looked like it could carry gold.

Seemed Lara and she weren’t the only ones strapped for money. _Good,_ she thought, it meant she had time to meet with Pythagoras and Aletheia before her other self did. They would know what happened and how to get out of here. Maybe. Hopefully.

Nostalgia hit her as soon as they stepped on the deck of a merchant ship on its way to Anaphi. It wasn’t the Adrestia by any means, but it was a ship and that was enough to make her smile big behind her shroud. Lara was mirroring her grin for other reasons.

“It really is remarkable,” the archeologist said, looking at the expanse of the horizon where the sea met the sky.

“The Aegean Sea has always been magnificent, though you can’t truly appreciate its beauty if you travel on modern ships.”

Cruise ships, steam ships, motorboats… they did not let you feel the waves, they cushioned Poseidon’s wrathful storms. Kassandra liked technology as much as the next person. It was easy, it was fast, but sometimes she longed for _this_. The wet wood squeaking under her feet, the intoxicating smell of salted water, sailors shouting, winds whipping around at sails and people alike. Nothing could compare.

They reached the island in a week, using the remaining drachmae to book a room in a tavern by the port. Lara had acclimated quickly, she still had issues following conversations if spoken too fast, but she tried, nevertheless. Kassandra was a bit impressed. A lot, actually, though she kept it for herself since the archeologist’s reaction to her genuine (and rare) compliments was to stammer awkwardly and leave.

What a puzzling reaction.

Thankfully, Lara did not throw a fit when she stole a fishing boat for them one brisk morning. Though, she made Kassandra promise to put it back exactly where it was when they returned. Least its owner did not need it today. Thera was as foggy as it always was back then, with its ancient ruins poking through the mist.

“Santorini, right?” Lara turned around from where she was sitting at the front, to glance at Kassandra who had insisted on taking the helm. “It looks deserted.”

“Thera,” she corrected, slaloming between the rocks carefully until they reached shore. “And it is. Was until the first century.”

She left out the part about the Ancient Civilization that was even more ancient than hers. Lara only had vague information about the Isu from her travels in Siberia and Peru, but that was it. All Kassandra had revealed was her immortality and some nebulous bits about the fight raging between Templars and Assassins, that she, _for some reason,_ had to keep an eye on.

Had the archeologist known she was currently stepping just above Atlantis, she would syncope. Kassandra hoped she would never realize she had hidden that from her, too. There was no reason, really, if Lara did as she was told.

“Okay,” she grunted, pushing the boat on the shore so that it would not drift away. “I need to speak to someone,” Kassandra turned to the young woman. “And I need _you_ to stay here. Keep the boat.”

“W-what?” Lara adjusted her bow and stood tall. “But why?”

“Because.”

“Kassandra.”

“Lara,” she deadpanned. It was almost funny how the archeologist thought that saying her name like that would make her change her mind. “I asked you to leave once, and you didn’t follow my orders,” the other woman looked absolutely affronted, ready to retort but Kassandra did not let her. “Now, I am asking you to stay put. I will be back, I promise.”

Lara was still not convinced, she crossed her arms, huffing. “I can fight.”

Her lips pursed. “I’m here to _talk_. Not fight. It’s safe,” though she was pretty sure Pythagoras would kill her easily if Lara threatened him. The old man was stronger than he looked, especially if he still held on the Staff.

“So, you just don’t want me there,” she deducted. It stung a little.

“Exactly. I don’t want you there.”

This knowledge did not belong to her. She had already taken an incommensurable risk by bringing Lara so close to the Gates of Atlantis, she was not going to worsen her fate.

Kassandra left a flabbergasted Lara behind and walked towards the ruins. It took longer than she would like to admit to redirect the mirrors’ lights towards the door (mostly because she realized a bit too late that a second pair of hands would have come in handy, but was too stubborn to go back to the shore and ask for help). It opened soundlessly, allowing her to enter.

She walked in the dark for a couple of minutes until the artificial blue tint shined through. Pythagoras was standing there, Staff in hand, mouth slightly agape, eyes lost in the billions of information running across the holographic globe.

 _“I am taking over your communication…”_ Aletheia’s automated message hammered in the background.

“Pythagoras!” she called loudly from the other side before jogging to him.

He turned, startled and confused, eyes widening when he looked at the woman. “Kassandra?” he squinted, the wrinkles on his forehead creasing with the motion. “You are not supposed to be here, it’s too early. Myrrine shouldn’t have…”

“I am not here, and mater hasn’t told me anything about you yet,” she said once she had reached the center of the platform. “I’m pretty sure I’m still looking for her, actually.”

His eyes narrowed even more, stance shifting ever so slightly. “Then, who are you?” Kassandra took the Caduceus pendant out of her breastplate to show him. “So, it happened,” he mumbled under his breath, eyes shifting to the Staff in his hand.

Of all the things she had expected him to say, this was not one of them. “What? What happened?”

His features changed, looking suddenly grave and accusatory. “You did not fulfill your mission,” he sighed. “I had a vision, this could happen.”

Kassandra was taken aback, stuttering for a second before she caught herself. “What do you mean? I’ve been keeping an eye on the Heir. I’ve been fighting for two thousand years, neither Assassins nor Templars know about this place.”

They had discovered the Forge though. And Lara was just above them right now. Could that have tipped the balance?

Pythagoras’ eyes glazed over as he took the information in. He shook his head disapprovingly. “It doesn’t matter. The bloodline,” he turned around, motioning at the holographic globe. “Without the bloodline, there is no fight.”

The woman frowned. “The bloodli—”

“Haven’t you met with an Assassin?” he cut, not listening to her. “A Persian one. He had a daughter and a son.”

“An Assass—Darius?”

_Oh._

Bloodline.

Kassandra’s eyes narrowed dangerously. She didn’t like where this was going. “I met them,” she began slowly. “And I sent them on their way after helping them.”

“That was your mistake,” he snapped back with a glare. “Without the bloodline, there is no legacy. There is no fight,” he stressed; fist tightened around the Staff. “Order has already won.”

She saw red. How could he just waltz in and imply… he had no right. He had no right on her, he never did. “So, what did you want me to do, exactly?”

She remembered Natakas now. He had been willing, too earnest even. A gentle soul, but Kassandra wasn’t interested.

“Your _duty_.”

It felt like being punched in the guts. The wind knocked out of her. “My duty,” she repeated somberly, once she recovered from the blow. "Like you?”

“It was necessary, for the bloodline,” Pythagoras was still glaring.

“Fuck your bloodline!” she snarled, her outburst echoing in the cave. “What kind of person brings a child into the world only to use them as a weapon? Do you know what happened to Myrrine? To me?” she spat. “Did you even care?”

He was taken aback by her sudden fit, shrinking and stammering. “I had Ikaros keep an—”

“A bird!” she yelled back, hands balled into angry fists. “When I needed a _pater_ , you gave me a bird!” Kassandra closed her eyes and breathed out to calm down. “I will not be you, Pythagoras. Ever.”

His eyes narrowed. “Careful, Kassandra.”

“You be careful,” she hated tiny veiled threats just as he did. Probably a family trait they shared, she thought bitterly. Her eyes were burning a clear amber when she took a step towards him. “If the Fate of the world depends on me working as an incubator,” Pythagoras’ face scrunched in confusion at the foreign word. “You can take the Staff and shove it.”

He tried to pacify her, but only made things worse when he blurted, “Maybe if you hadn’t killed Alexios…”

“Deimos was going to kill mater!” she roared. She’d had just enough time to stop him before he plunged his sword in their mother. Just enough.

“Which is unfortunate,” he conceded, raising his hand. “But Myrinne knew the risks.”

Her body reacted. Kassandra didn’t register what was happening until the blade of her rusty small sword was already under his chin and dangerously close to his carotid. “Another word about her and it’s your head on the Staff,” she growled. “We will see how you wake up from that one.”

 _“Stop it,”_ a voice echoed in the cave. _“Both of you. Step back, now.”_

It took a second for Kassandra to realize this was not part of the prerecorded message. She sheathed the sword but stayed close to Pythagoras. “Aletheia?” she tried, looking up at the globe.

_“Yes.”_

Pythagoras was transfixed, eyes looking back and forth between the hologram and his daughter. “She spoke to you?”

Kassandra glared, but said nothing. Leaving the Isu to talk. _“Yes._ _I apologize for not intervening earlier, I had to make sure you were whom you said you were, Keeper.”_

“I understand,” she bowed to the globe. If she was here, it was reassuring, it meant all was not lost.

“Ho-how is it possible?” he said again. “She never spoke before.”

 _“I chose not to,”_ Aletheia corrected, leaving it at that.

“Is it true?” Kassandra chose to ignore him too. “What Pythagoras said about the bloodline? Is it true?”

_“I am afraid so.”_

She shook her head, throwing her arms in the air in frustration. If even Aletheia said so. “What is wrong with all of you?!”

 _“But,”_ she continued. _“You have already altered the course of time by your very presence here. Save your brother and things might change for the better. If you are willing to take this bargain."_

Alexios.

She had a chance at saving him again. Gods willing, she could reunite her family, give this to Myrrine. Not an empty promise. The thought had crossed her mind as soon as she realized where she was; though she didn’t dare hope.

“If Alexios lives, will it help with the bloodline?”

Aletheia did not respond right away. _“There is a chance, though I cannot confirm that it will. I apologize.”_

Well. This was better than nothing.

_“You have to know the risks are greater, were you to choose this path. Think before you take your decision.”_

Kassandra nodded. “I will,” Aletheia’s explanations were better than Pythagoras trying to scold her and force her into… by the Gods, she didn’t even want to think about it now. “How do I get back to my time?”

There was another long pause. The man next to her was still dumbfounded, mouth open, following the conversation as best he could, but clearly ignored by both women.

_“The pommel of the sword your brother is wielding has an artifact, something with enough power to send you back. We created it but time lacked for our civilization to test it before we went extinct. It was a secret project developed with disks that gave you access to the Atlantis Gates’ keys. You can use it.”_

Seemed easy enough. If she got close to him. “Thank you.”

 _“Keeper,”_ she called again when the woman started walking away. _“Powerful forces sent you back, be very careful who you trust. I cannot possibly help you out of here besides keeping you alive. Pardon me.”_

Kassandra nodded. “I understand,” she threw a look at Pythagoras’ frozen form. “When the Eagle Bearer finds this place, try to be nicer to her than you were to me. Don’t talk about bloodlines.”

There was plenty of information to digest here without Pythagoras hammering nonsense about babies and legacy to someone whom he did not even know properly. Kassandra never had the opportunity to talk to him, and it never seemed that he cared beyond what she could do _for_ him. He had used her, like Markos, hiding behind shared blood to legitimize his actions.

Somehow, she doubted that would change when her past self met him again.

She left the cave fuming with anger, footsteps echoing loudly in the cave.

-0-

 

It was the mirror near the door that took the brunt of Kassandra’s ire. After shattering it with a heavy rock, she proceeded to destroy its wooden frame bare-handed, tearing off the planks and stomping on the rest.

Lara watched her from a distance. She had (mostly) listened and hadn’t approached the large black doors underneath the ruins, just walked around them. The archeologist had found a tablet, akin to the one retrieved from Siberia, she had been in the middle of transcribing it when she heard the sound of glass being crushed, only to see Kassandra, all fury and growls, wrecking mirrors on her path.

She had seen her upset, angry, how her eyes would narrow and her brow crease, how the color of her eyes would change from its usual hazel to a burning amber. She thought she had seen it all, but this fury was different. It reminded Lara of a wounded animal throwing its last forces into a lost battle.  

There was nothing to do but to watch. Lara knew this kind of ire, of desperate rage. She had felt it too, yet not to this extent. She decided to let her unwind alone and walked back to the shore.

Kassandra joined her about an hour later, hands bloody and battered, a scowl on her face, still radiating with pent-up anger. She said nothing, pushing and embarking on the small boat, walking to the back to take the helm again before hissing when the shards of glass dug painfully into her palms. 

“Let me,” Lara offered softly, motioning her to sit down. She had memorized the way and currents. The craft was easy enough to navigate.

Kassandra’s scowl did not set down. For a second it seemed like she wanted to argue but thought better of it, nodding wordlessly and switching places with Lara. She lied on the planks, heaved a sigh and threw an arm over her eyes.

Night was already well on its way when they reached the shore of Anaphi. They walked back to the tavern in silence and settled in their room. Lara left, coming back with food from downstairs and whatever she could get that would pass up as medical supplies. She found Kassandra brooding by the window, looking at the odd villagers staggering their way home after one too many drinks.

Lara stepped next to her, peering at the men outside. “Can I have a look at your hands?”

Kassandra hadn’t said a word since coming out of that door on Thera. It showed when she finally spoke, her voice scratchy from the lack of use. “It will heal,” they both watched as drunken man started arguing with a fishnet he had just tripped over. “I’ve had worse.”

Lara glanced away from the sad spectacle outside, then back at her for a long while. “Please,” she wouldn’t insist if the other woman declined a second time.

She saw the tension ebb slowly from Kassandra’s shoulders. She looked down, uncrossing her arms before meeting Lara’s gaze. There was a tiny crease near her lower lip as Kassandra chewed on the inside of it.

Finally, a nod, barely there. But Lara took it all the same. She brought the candle and put it next to them by the window before reaching for the small amphora of the strongest wine she could find. It had assaulted her nose and brought tears to her eyes when Lara took a whiff. Hopefully it would work.

“I only found this, I’m sorry,” she said, cradling Kassandra’s right hand in hers, soaking a cloth in the amphora.

Her bruised hand shook when alcohol made contact with the gashes covered by dried blood. Her skin was raw, but Kassandra kept quiet, staring a hole in Lara’s metal chest plate. In other circumstances, the young woman might have gotten offended, but it was quite obvious by the scowl on Kassandra’s face that she wasn’t actually sneaking a peek at her breasts.

Lara made a quick work of cleaning her hand, bringing it closer to the candle to remove glass debris with a makeshift tweezer she had assembled.

“I take it that meeting didn’t go as you expected?” she kept her tone light, focused on her task.

Kassandra blinked a couple of times, surprised by the question. She didn’t answer right away. “Worse,” the word rolled out of her mouth, thick with meaning.

Surprisingly, she was the one to speak again, when Lara started bandaging her hand before switching to the other one. “I don’t think there is a word in any language that would express how I feel right now.”

If that wasn’t a loaded statement.

“That bad?” Lara tried to joke but it came out awkward; kind of. 

It still made Kassandra puff quietly before she retreated into her head for a long while, watching the young woman tend to her left hand. “Apparently my whole existence revolved around carrying some random Persian’s child, and no one told me,” she said with a dry chuckle, “Never mind the two and a half thousand years I’ve dedicated to keeping the scale. No, that was all for nothing, clearly,” and rolled her eyes in annoyance. “By the Gods, I don’t even remember that maláka’s face.”

Lara tried really hard, but that last part still made her snort out a laugh. Kassandra had a knack for cracking jokes in dire situations. It reminded her of Sam when they were on Yamatai, making up an impromptu poll about which food they were missing most. Jaffa cakes. Always, Jaffa cakes. She missed them now, even.

“Don’t move your hand,” she instructed, “I’m almost done,” before going back to their conversation. “Legacy can be a burden.”

Richard’s had been. The Crofts’ had been. Lara had spent so much of her time trying to escape it, denying it, resenting him for turning her family into a laughingstock because of his obsessions. A disgrace, journalists had called him. It had taken years, grief and death to make her peace with all of it. It didn’t mean she forgot, but Lara couldn’t live with the ghosts of her past chained at her ankles like boulders. Not Richard’s at least. She had enough guilt to last her two lifetimes and then some.

“Legacy can fuck right off to Tartaros,” Kassandra had taken on using idioms from this time, and it was oddly charming. She reached for the amphora, ignoring Lara’s disgusted expression when she took a large gulp. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” she continued, thanking her when she was done.

It was obvious that she needed to unwind, though verbally this time. Lara let her, she figured it wasn’t really about receiving sound advice. Venting could be cathartic, and Kassandra had two thousand years’ worth of emotional luggage to unpack. Lara sat down on one of the cots (if it could be called that), watching the other pace around the room, fuming.

“I’m not even against children,” Kassandra blurted, walking back from the door to the window. “I like them, I wouldn’t have minded…” she gesticulated, arms flailing wildly in the air. “But how did he expect me to raise a child? I’m a misthios, kids would never be safe with me,” she said sullenly.

She had a solid point. Having a child, as a mercenary would be a death sentence. A red target painted on both their backs.

“I know what it’s like to grow up alone,” she continued, walking back to the door. “I’ve been hunted all my life,” her brow creased into a frown. “He… he would be running all the time with no home to call his own. They wouldn’t leave him alone, I know that. It’s not something I would subject my child to.”

“And you’re right,” Lara finally spoke. Kassandra looked at her like she had forgotten she was there. Apparently surprised to have someone agreeing with her, too. She went on, “You are right. This is no way to grow up.”

Trinity had never left _her_ alone. As soon as they planted their claws in Richard’s shoulders, they hadn’t let go until she wiped them out of existence. Kassandra’s concerns were justified, she understood them. “So, what do we do now?”

“We?”

“We are in this together,” Lara said resolutely. She wasn’t going to let her carry this burden alone. They would find a way out of this. The two of them.

Kassandra blinked again, once, twice, three times, visibly at a loss. “I…”

“Is there a way to go back to the future?” she prompted, changing the subject in order to make her focus on something else.

The other woman nodded, walking to the empty cot to sit down. “The sword, that’s why they wanted to find the tomb…” she proceeded to explain what Aletheia had told her about the artifact.

“And where is it now?” Lara asked. “Does the Eagle Bearer have it?”

She saw Kassandra flinch at the name before she shook her head. “No, the sword is with my brother.”

“You have a brother?” her face lit up, that sounded easy enough. “We can ask him to borrow it, then?”

“No, we can’t,” she shook her head again. “He won’t part from it.”

Lara scoffed. What was this nonsense? She knew her experience with siblings was limited, but still. The closest thing she ever had to one was Sam, since they met at boarding school where she had been sent after Richard’s death. Holding on a grudge was natural, but surely, he could make an exception given the… exceptional circumstances?

“Come on,” she smiled at her. “Whatever happened between you, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

Kassandra blinked at her again. Her features shifted, turning grave as she kept quiet for a long while. “Lara, the last time I saw him, I killed him,” arms crossed to her chest, there was an odd light in her eyes as she reminisced. “The Cult—Templars, you know them as Templars, they took him from us. They used the Pythia to carry their lies. She told my family Alexios would bring Sparta to her knees, if he lived.”

Lara’s face changed, a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. The visions she’d had when she had touched Kassandra, the flashes, it all made sense. The baby, the storm. “They threw him off a cliff…” even spoken out loud, the words wouldn’t register.

“On Mount Taygetos,” Kassandra nodded. “I tried… I…” her words came out choked, she tried again. “I tried to save him, but I wasn’t fast enough. I pushed the priest, but it was already too late. He fell too, and they turned on me.”

Her silence clued Lara. “They threw you as well,” she muttered, eyes widened by shock. It took a very special kind of people to try and kill children. She swallowed, thick and heavy. Bloody animals that’s what they were.

“Alexios survived,” Kassandra spoke again. “He always had a thick head,” her joke and half-smile did nothing to alleviate Lara’s rising anger. “They stole him from our mater, told her he had died. They…” she was quiet again, looking at her hand. “They tortured and brainwashed him.”

She went on, revealing it all, that first meeting, the Forge, how he had refused to listen even after she had saved him from that burning tree. Kassandra watched Lara’s face fall and crumble, until she reached that fateful day.

“I had to… I had no choice, I had… he tried, he was going to kill her,” she looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. Her eyes were shining when they met Lara’s gaze. “I had to,” she whispered in a stifled voice.

She reached for her bandaged hand on instinct, squeezing gently. A gesture that spoke volume, there was no judgment in her eyes; just sadness. Kassandra had been carrying all of this guilt for thousands of years, her grief, her failures, her regrets weighing heavily on her heart. This was no way to live, no way at all.

They kept silent for a while, Lara’s thumb running across her bandaged knuckles. The soft touch was anchoring Kassandra, it seemed. She squeezed back, a moment later; the sigh coming out of her mouth shaky and heavy with emotion.

“He is alive now, right?” Lara asked, remembering her words from earlier. Kassandra nodded. “We still have a chance to save him.”

She wanted to believe it, she really did. “I tried, already,” her face looked haunted, candlelight drawing threatening shadows on it.

“We will try again,” the archeologist stressed. “You’re not on your own this time. Hey,” she squeezed Kassandra’s hand, prompting her to look at Lara. “You’re not alone,” she said.

_I’m here._

Kassandra willed herself to believe it would be enough. That they could make a difference. Both of them.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet but sad. But sweet, right? They're getting somewhere.
> 
> I will NOT let Natakas impregnate my Kass. It is NOT happening. Nope. I just figured it would be a good point to develop within the plot and I had to open the floodgates of salt because holy cow that DLC. The bloodline part was handled so poorly that it’s not even funny. Kass will definitely find a way to nope out of this nonsense and ride off the sunset with Lara. Natakas and his baby can fuck off. 
> 
> And sorry, I wrote Pythagoras as an oblivious navel-gazing asshole, but Aletheia did say he was selfish and that's why she didn't open the Gates for him.
> 
> Also, technically the Daughters of Artemis favored women. Chastity as per the Goddess was about heterosexual sex (lesbians don’t really exist within religion, do they?), Daphnae doesn’t have to remain a virgin, I just wrote her in a way that she would push her dedication to that point.
> 
> We're going to Mykonos next chapter! What does Kyra have in store for those two, I wonder.


	7. Chapitre Sept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mykonos will have two chapters because I said so. Mostly, I don’t want to write monster chapters (13/15K words) because it can be jarring to go through all that content. Ain’t nobody got time for that, right? Right.
> 
> Vocab:  
> pteryges is the leather skirt/shoulder straps Greek warriors usually wore  
> Smīkrós means tiny  
> Morì might (I’m not too sure) mean something along the lines of idiot.  
> Sadly, we can’t all learn Ancient Greek by reading pillars, right Lara?
> 
> Many thanks for the kudos, the thoughtful comments and follows! You guys rock and I love you.

 

 

“Look,” Kassandra sighed. “All I am saying is, they either destroyed everything we had built, or claimed it as their own,” her right hand made a wide gesture. “Because they had no shame,” she growled the last part. “Malákes. All of them.”

Lara was not too convinced. Kassandra’s bias was evident to her. “The Greek world was already in shambles, though,” she pointed out.

They had been talking about battle techniques to pass the time on their way to Athens – which Lara was  _dying_  to visit. With just enough drachmae to get food and some new gear, they still had no horses and were traveling on foot. It was time-consuming, but nice. They could see more of the land, stop by a city or a historical place Kassandra would tell Lara about. She even saw Agamemnon’s tomb, though the other woman categorically refused to follow her in and decided to set up their camp outside. Lara resurfaced two days later, half cobwebs, half dust, looking absolutely delighted, with the biggest grin on her face.

They usually discussed customs, religion and myths on their treks, things the archeologist had studied and wanted to know more about. That was how today’s conversation had drifted to foreign invasions which incidentally led to, Lara discovered, what was a very, very sore subject for Kassandra, even more so than Xerxes’ incursion: The Roman empire.

“The Greek world,” she repeated. “Didn’t need a religious disruption like this. They stole our Gods, changed their names when it didn’t please them and forced the population to abide to it. Centuries of knowledge erased or altered,” the mercenary mask she had been wearing lately was doing a very good job at hiding her face. It even turned her words into a threatening rumble.

“You don’t know how much they stole from us,” she sighed again, kicking a rock with her boot. “They rewrote everything. I’ve heard lecturers spew their propaganda and marvel at what  _we_  had achieved,” her scoff was muffled. “They would have claimed Sokrates and philosophy as their own, if they could.”

That was enough to make Lara’s train of thought come to a screeching halt to ask, “You went to university?”

She saw Kassandra’s shoulders tense and square a little, as if she hadn’t meant to reveal that part. Not seeing her face was unnerving, she couldn’t gauge her reaction, aside from body language. “I get bored every century or so,” she sounded sheepish, or maybe defensive. Hard to tell. “Bored enough to go back to school and instantly regret it once I’m there,” she shrugged. “So many things are twisted, so many lies… and people, students, they drink it all because there is no one left to rectify it.”

“Except you,” Lara nodded, squinting at the sun beating on them. They would reach the forest in a couple of hours, before nightfall. God, she missed sunglasses.

Kassandra made a noise, distorted through her mask. “No. I just sit there, fuming.”

“Must be frustrating,” she mused out loud; to know everything was a lie, and yet not speak out.

“Very.”

“I don’t recall Professor Moss being like this when I was taking his class,” she said. He was a brilliant man,  _is_ … Lara rectified in her head,  _is a brilliant man_. His lectures were always engaging, despite her interests lying elsewhere at the time. Himiko and her kingdom had been monopolizing her attention. He always gave her good grades, too.

“We only spent a few weeks together, but I’ve never heard him present anything as cold hard facts either,” Kassandra slowed down, noticing the patrol walking towards them, further away. Athenians, from their banner. “I liked that about him.”

Lara turned around to face her, ponytail shifting with the motion. She was walking backward, a smile on her face. “Not because he was doing extensive research on your legendary accomplishments?” Kassandra brushed it off with a dismissive gesture. “Come on, admit it.”

There was a long bout of silence, only disturbed by their walking. “Okay. Maybe a little,” she drew her index and thumb close together.

Lara’s smile grew. Over time, she had learned just how smug Kassandra could be. Stroke her ego and she would puff up her chest.

“You!” one of the Athenian soldiers called behind her. “Come closer,” it was a polemarch.

Lara turned around, her brow creasing in suspicion. She threw a quick look at Kassandra who was still standing behind her. The archeologist came to a halt at a safe distance, hand close to her axe but not threateningly so. “What is it?”

“Are you a misthios?” the same man asked, eyes shifting between the women.

Officially no. They had taken on a few contracts over the weeks (closing in on four months now, since they had left Turkey), but nothing that involved assassination or taking part in the Peloponnesian War. Kassandra hadn’t been especially happy about that, but they hadn’t argued. The possible consequences of their meddling in the battle between Athens and Sparta were unknown, Lara did not want to risk it.

“Depends on who is asking,” she said.

He tsked, visibly annoyed by her reply. “Are you a misthios, yes or no? We need swords.”

Kassandra came closer, nudging her back discreetly. “What for?” Lara asked.

Their non verbal communication system had become very efficient over the past few months. A nudge, a look, clearing of the throat, shifting feet. They all meant something.

The soldier looked at his peers, then back at her. “Retaking one of the Silver Islands,” he adjusted his armor and stood tall. “Perikles wants Mykonos back.”

She felt Kassandra shift behind her. Tense. She sniffed, tilting her head to the side as if stifling black a sneeze.

_Accept. Say yes._

Lara frowned; they had a deal. No meddling. They would steer away from battlefields until they gathered information about Alexios’ whereabouts. Kassandra wanted to get to him before the battle of Amphipolis, at the very least, which let them some time.

Lara had to make peace with the fact that she would be staying literal  _years_ in here. It hadn’t been easy the first weeks. She had been sullen, withdrawn, more than usual, but it’s not like they could do anything about it. There was no approaching Deimos while the Templars (Cult, she corrected in her head, the Cult) had their clutches on him; and for that they needed the Eagle Bearer to weaken their political and financial influence. The only thing they could do was to facilitate her quest, lead her on the right path while remaining undetected. They had spent the last few weeks doing just that; hopping from island to island, looking for clues about the cultists’ identities that they could conveniently drop on the Eagle Bearer’s way.

It was a good plan, but a slow one. Never mind the fact that Kassandra herself tended to be all over the place. A battle here, a war there, a village to defend in Boeotia. The Eagle Bearer was currently fighting in the arena of Pephka; some sailors traveling back had reported. Grand and bloody spectacle that was well worth the drachmae, they’d said.

“Why does he want it?” Lara deliberately ignored the woman’s instructions.

“Because it was ours,” the polemarch’s voice rose. “And we want it back. Sparta has been laying siege on it for far too long.”

Kassandra sniffed again behind her. Twice.

 _Refuse_.

That was confusing. Hadn’t she wanted the opposite just a second ago?

“Is your slave sick?” another soldier asked, shifting to take a step back. “There’s blood fever coming from the west.”

Lara shook her head. “She is fine. We traveled from the east,” they didn’t seem convinced, she saw them hold on their spears a little tighter. “I’m sorry, but I must decline your offer, Polemarch.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself, foreigner. Avoiding combat won’t make you rich, but it will keep you alive. Trading glory for safety is no way to live for a misthios, though.”

She bowed her head as she’d been taught. “I will keep that in mind. May Ares grant you his strength,” and stepped aside when they started walking again.

“Change of plans,” Kassandra switched back to English when the patrol was far enough. “We’re going to Mykonos.”

The archeologist turned to her. “What?” they were at least half a day away from the nearest port. “No. We’re not.”

Kassandra lifted her helmet a little, allowing the breeze to cool her face. “You heard him. Athens wants it and Sparta has been sieging,” she wiped the sweat with a cloth and drank from her waterskin.

“Yes,” Lara said. “And this is exactly why we can’t go. No direct involvement in the war, Kassandra, we agreed.”

“I know,” she sounded frustrated. “Look, it’s not what you think,” putting the mask back on. “I have a friend there. The Archon, I… she will need help. I can’t just let her fight them on her own,” the other woman was going to speak again, defend her point but Kassandra beat her to it. “Mykonos pledged to Sparta after they helped the rebels overthrow their former Archon. They shouldn’t be fighting  _against_ them. It doesn’t make sense.”

Lara blinked. That was a lot of information to take in. “What do you think happened?”

Kassandra’s shoulders rose in a shrug. “I’m not too sure. I wasn’t aware of this,” she paused. “Before, I mean.”

Could it be a consequence of their presence in Greece? Lara had been musing over this for months, mapping historical events in her head, things they had agreed not to take part in, to preserve the course of time. So far, so good, or so she had thought.

If they went, they would be up against the most powerful factions of the world. Spartans were a force to be reckoned with, a land of warriors. And even though Athens was (theoretically) on its way to lose the war, its army was still powerful and couldn’t be ignored either.

A friend, she’d said. Doing it for a friend. It was not a subject they had broached, and Lara felt stupid for not doing it earlier. Of course, Kassandra would have friends here, people she would like to see again, certainly. They both knew about the consequences, if the other woman was ready to risk it… she could understand.

Lara would risk it too, for Sam. Or Jonah.

Kassandra mistook her silence. “You don’t have to go, if you think it’s too dangerous. But I will. I have to find out what happened.” she pointed at the hill. “Walk east, there’s a village at about three hours. Stay there until I come back.”

Like hell, she was.

Kassandra was already veering around, jogging in the opposite direction. “Wait!” Lara called. “I’m coming.”

She wasn’t going to let her fight on her own.

 

* * *

They returned to the port in half the time it had taken them to leave it, Kassandra cut through the cliffs, scaling them for the first time since they landed in Greece. Lara managed to keep up with her frantic pace just fine, reaching the top with a high jump mid-air even she didn’t dare try. It seemed shorter people took a lot more risks when it came to climbing surfaces. Or maybe that was just Lara.

It took them a few minutes to find a merchant ship on its way to Delos – apparently, Mykonos was off-limits till Spartans or Athenians razed it. They haggled over the price until the captain was blue in the face. Lara promised extra help on deck for half the drachmae he wanted; Kassandra was speechless under her mask. She really had acclimated; save for the accent when she spoke, it didn’t sound like she had been here for less than six months. They had to share their space with a screaming baby and a young poet who hadn’t earned his sea legs, if the incessant gagging and retching were any indication. They only found solace in the fact that he didn’t vomit on them.

Kassandra’s head was already in Mykonos. It was true, she hadn’t been aware of the island’s situation before. She just hoped it wasn’t too late to find Kyra. The sinking feeling in her stomach all but intensified when they reached Delos, a couple of weeks later. Spartan ships surrounded the whole island. They were all connected through small bridges that allowed the soldiers to move from ship to ship quickly. Delos' port was swarming with Athenians. Their army had set up camp on the beach, away from the tumult of the city, to avoid unnecessary bloodshed on the sacred land.

She climbed on the highest building to get a better view of the island; brow creased and eyes narrowed in a squint.

“Anything?” Lara asked, grunting slightly as she followed after her. Kassandra leaned forward, offering a hand to pull her up the rest of the way. “Thanks.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t see a way in from here. They have the island on complete lockdown,” a boat would be suicide.

Lara stared ahead. All the ships were lit, she could see figures draped in red and gold, moving on decks like ants. “How well do you know the island? Are there any secret passages?”

Kassandra blinked, wetting her lips. The caves. One of them did go underwater. Southern of here. It would lead them right into the heart of the city underground, where one of the rebel camps had been.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Maybe,” Kyra could have ordered the cave to be collapsed to prevent Spartans from sneaking in on them. Thaletas had known about it, but he was dead. Could he have talked to one of his men before?

Her mind was racing. Lara felt her agitation and squeezed her shoulder. “Hey,” they looked at each other. “We will find her.”

Kassandra took a deep breath before nodding slowly. “Yes. Okay,” another deep breath, feeling her muscles relax. “Okay,” and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, she sounded less anxious. “There’s an entrance, below the surface, south of the island. We will have to swim around the ships until we reach it. Then swim under them, undetected.”

Lara hummed in agreement. “How deep is it?”

“Deep enough to be challenging,” she replied. There were many times Kassandra had almost fallen short of drowning because she had overestimated her stamina.

The other woman gave her a grin. “I’ve dived headfirst in Siberian lakes during winter. Trust me, nothing tops that.”

“Underwater ruins?”

Lara made a noise and shook her head. “Chopper trying to kill me.”

Kassandra blinked, mouth hanging open at the casual admission. Surviving frozen waters and a chopper? This woman was made of steel. “You will have to tell me more about that,” her stories made for good tales to swap around a fire. It was almost funny how all her expeditions seemed to go sideways at some point.

It was the archeologist’s wink that made her burst out laughing and ebb the ever-growing tension from her body. They jumped off the building to make their way to the beach, away from the Athenian military camp. Kassandra had to leave her mercenary mask behind as well as a few supplies that were too heavy to be carried while swimming – gun included. They buried them in the sand, near a bush to find later.

With the night, temperatures had dropped, making the water a lot colder. Kassandra tied Lara’s rope around her middle, giving the other end to the archeologist. “It’s too dark and we can’t use your lamp. We will have to do it the old-fashioned way,” she received a nod, as she tested the cord’s elasticity. “I will take the lead. If you run out of air, tug on the rope and I will drag you.”

How she wished she had Poseidon’s trident now. They had sailed past the statue on their way from Melitus, Kassandra had been tempted to reach the small island to take it with her; she missed having long-range weapons. She had talked herself out of it at the last minute, remembering the lions that roamed around the statue.

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” Lara was already waist-deep in the water, shivering slightly.

Two deep breaths and a nod later, they plunged. They rounded the island, swimming at a safe distance from the ships until they got close to the underwater cave. Kassandra turned around, checking on Lara before pointing to the left. They dived further, swimming fast, but even so, her lungs were starting to burn, screaming for air while her limbs kept kicking forward.

 _A bit more, just a bit more_.

A pointy rock at the entrance tore through her chiton, slicing between the lappets of her _pteryges_. She winced at the sharp sting on her upper thigh. It was deep enough to draw blood, she realized, praying the Gods it would not attract sharks. They were almost weaponless and in near-complete darkness. Easy preys for hungry animals.

When her body felt like it could not take it anymore, Kassandra saw a moving flash of light, the dimly lit surface of the cave. She kicked faster, spasming with the motions and lack of air in her lungs.

She feasted on that first breath when her head finally broke through the surface; hearing Lara take a few lungfuls behind her. “Not dead?” she rasped, swimming towards the edge.

“I don’t think so,” the archeologist responded, words cut short by her frantic panting. “You were right,” she went on, with barely enough force to drag herself up and flop on her back on the ground. “This was a challenge.” Kassandra’s head was next to hers. She didn’t have any strength left to speak and only nodded and shook her head in agreement when Lara said, “I don’t think they saw us.”

It took them some time to regain their breathing and get to their feet. The caves of Mykonos were a nebulous maze, Kassandra recalled. They lost their way a couple of times before reaching the main path towards the heart of the cave, under the city.

Few torches paved their way until they found themselves facing a guard’s bulky back. Lara instantly crouched, unsheathing her axe. Kassandra lifted one arm with her fist closed, gesturing for her to stay put.

No colored clothing. One of Kyra’s men. She shook her head at Lara’s quizzical look, mouthing 'safe' before clearing her throat loudly.

The man veered around, heavy mace in both hands. “Who is here?” he demanded, squinting at the dark path in front of him.

Kassandra stepped into the light. “The Eagle Bearer.”

 

-0-

Admittedly, her plan hadn’t gone further than 'reach Mykonos undetected'. Given the circumstances of their parting, Kassandra had the feeling Kyra was light years away from welcoming her with open arms. She knew the reunion was going to be unpleasant, at best. Had even dreaded to think about it.

It went worse than she thought.

Kassandra had expected a few threats, maybe some screaming, and insults thrown in. Being smacked in the face twice and punched in the guts was not part of the list. Thankfully, it was only fists and not a knife to the head. She wasn’t certain Kyra would miss, this time.

“You dare show your face after all you’ve done?!” the woman’s voice rose in a mix of disbelief and anger.

Kassandra was still doubled over from that last blow, but Lara was fine and so, Lara reacted, shoving Kyra and aiming at her head with an arrow she had nocked in a blink. The clinking of metal and rubbing of leather when the men surrounding them drew their weapons were almost deafening.

“Hey—hey!” she recovered quickly and stepped in front of the archeologist to protect Kyra, raising her hands in the air. “Lara, stop.”

“She just hit you,” she growled in English.

Actually… she let herself be hit. Nuance.

“I deserved it,” Kassandra replied, squeezing Lara’s taut arm. “I deserved it, okay?” she repeated softly. “Now, lower your bow. Please.”

“Who is she?” Kyra asked, behind her. Arms crossed in a nonchalant pose, not even bothered by the fact that she had come very close to dying.

She didn’t know how lethal Lara could be. Kassandra had seen her shoot a deer in the eye at two hundred and a half meters away like it was nothing.

“None of your business!” she spat, standing on her toes to glare past Kassandra’s broad shoulder.

Kyra was not impressed, and neither were the men surrounding them. Laughter rose among them as they mocked her openly. Kassandra heard  _smīkrós_  and  _morì_  being thrown around, something about Lara fitting right in their pouch. Despite their obvious disbelief, they still held their swords and heavy maces high and in a tight grip, ready to strike. “You are on  _my_  island, stranger.”

And this was how the archeologist glare shifted from her to Kassandra. “A friend, you said?” she switched to English again, words laced with sarcasm.

The other woman sighed deeply, averting her scalding gaze to look at the ground, then back at her, with a sheepish shrug. “It’s… complicated,” the admission was met with a scoff.

“If you have something to say, speak Greek, or don’t speak at all, foreigner. I don’t appreciate gossiping.”

The comment ticked Kassandra more than it did Lara who only rolled her eyes while the other woman turned around in a sharp move to glare at Kyra. “Can you stop provoking her? This isn’t helping.”

She blinked, mouth agape in surprise before her face scrunched into a scowl. “Provoking?” her laugh was shrill. “She’s the one aiming an arrow at me, misthios.”

“Because  _you_  hit me,” she snapped back and heaved another sigh. “Let’s all calm down,” she said, louder. “Okay?” turning around to give Lara a pointed look before repeating, “Okay?”

After a long stare down between them, the young woman tsked and looked away, putting the arrow back in her quiver. She kept her hand on the grip of the climbing axe, though. Just in case.

Kyra uncrossed her arms and gestured at the men to lower their weapons.

“Thank you,” Kassandra said.

“Why are you here?” she still sounded angry and her scowl hadn’t settled.

Kassandra looked around, meeting suspicious looks and distrustful glares. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Can we talk in private?”

Kyra’s eyes narrowed, she said nothing for a long while. There was a silent exchange between her and a bulky, bald man. Praxos, she remembered. Fiercely loyal, to a fault maybe. The other woman nodded, eventually, before pointing at Lara with her chin.

“What about the foreigner?”

“She stays here,” Kassandra replied, as much for the archeologist as the archon. “I trust your men won’t try anything stupid?”

“I trust  _she_ won’t try anything stupid?” Kyra shot back.

Lara was visibly aggravated and showed it, tsking again while crossing her arms. “Can you stop talking like I’m not right here,” she hissed at Kassandra before switching to Greek. “I will keep my weapons sheathed as long as they do the same.”

The other woman nodded and refocused on Kassandra. “Follow me.”

Silence hung heavily around them as they walked. They left the cave, Praxos a few meters behind, close but not overbearingly so. The wind was blowing on their way to Pordarkes’ former house, bringing loud chatters and shouts from the Spartan ships surrounding the island. Shanties, insults and war cries.

An intimidation technique, Kassandra realized. Nikolaos had told her stories about that, about how Sparta conducted their sieges. How they would relay each other, singing about battles, blood, and Leonidas’ wrath. How they would surround their enemies, creep in their mind with their words, until the only thing they could think about was the threat outside of their walls, looming. It was all about wearing them down before the battle. And it had worked every time.

The ships were even more imposing up close. The city was depleted of its usual bubbling activity, there was no music, no one ambling around, the tables outside of the tavern were desperately empty and forlorn. The roads were clear, air tinted with danger and heavy with smoke.

Praxos did not enter the house with them, Kyra led her to what looked like an office. Wooden planks covered the windows, and torches were on the wall, casting a dim orange hue in the room. There was a large table in the middle, with a map on it. She turned around to face Kassandra, leaning on the table. Her arms crossed again.

“Speak.”

“What happened?” she stayed by the wall. It would be a very bad idea to approach the other woman now.

“What do you think happened?” she spat, though it held no bite. She sounded more weary than upset, now.

They would not be getting anywhere if she kept snapping at her without answering questions. Kassandra opted for a more direct approach. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? You could have sent a note.”

Kyra let out a dry laugh, shaking her head in disbelief, like this was the most ridiculous thing she had heard all day. “To tell you what, misthios?” she pushed herself off the table, standing tall. “That your actions have consequences? That, maybe, killing a Spartan general would enrage their kingdom? You couldn’t figure it out yourself, Kassandra  _of Sparta_?”

Each word felt like a slap in the face. The sinking feeling she’d had ever since the Athenian polemarch had stopped them weeks ago intensified ten folds. And Kyra’s words all but confirmed the feeling that she was responsible for this. It was her spear that had stabbed Thaletas. Her hands; no one else’s.

And yet, Kyra had kept everything to herself, leaving her to go on her odyssey undisturbed, as she carefully avoided the island. Even her crew hadn’t said anything when she had sent the Adrestia to Mykonos while she gave Alexios a proper burial. Barnabas hadn’t talked at all. Was it because the rebels had already capitulated? Had Kyra been executed already?

He probably thought he was protecting her by saying nothing.

Kassandra swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing it down. “I would have helped.”

“Like you helped Thaletas?” she scoffed. “We will manage without you. Take that new toy of yours and leave my island, misthios.”

Her eyes narrowed, she took a step forward. “Don’t talk about her like that,” she was not going to let her drag Lara into their business. This was between them.

Kyra laughed bitterly, lifting her arm in a dismissive gesture before sneering. “Why? Isn’t she warming your furs?”

She could have punched her again and it would have felt exactly the same.

Kassandra let a beat, closing her eyes. Kyra always knew what to say to sting someone, her words hitting their mark like poisoned arrows. She wasn’t going to fall into this trap, she knew all Kyra wanted was to get a rise of her, get her too upset to think so that she would storm out and never come back. This wasn’t going to work.

She opened her eyes, mirroring Kyra’s scowl but keeping her voice even when she spoke. “This...” she gestured at the space between them. “Is not about her and you know it. Stop being a child. We are here to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You’re willing to let your people be slaughtered because of your pride?” Kassandra asked genuinely.

It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but it was too late to take the words back.

“Don’t you dare talk to me about pride!” Kyra exploded, closing the distance between them in two big steps, jabbing her fingers on her breastplate at each word, like a stab. “When you’re the one who killed because of it!”

It was Thaletas’ own pride that had killed him. Kassandra had tried to talk but he wouldn’t listen, just like Kyra hadn’t listened when she told her the truth.

“Is that what you tell yourself so you can feel better?” Kassandra asked somberly. She’d had enough of her games. “So that you don’t take responsibility?” Kyra wanted to go there? She was going to go there. “Is that what you tell yourself when you don’t feel guilty about his death? Is that it?”

Kyra’s hand rose again, but she caught it. They glared at each other, Kassandra sneering dangerously. “Not to me, Kyra,” she let go of her wrist to step back. “That little game of yours might work with your lapdog. I’m sure he would scream that the sky is green if you told him to. But I’m not Praxos.”

Kyra’s look was scalding, her hands were balled into fists at her sides, jaw clenched. Her breathing was ragged, coming through flared nostrils. Kassandra did not back down, despite the danger radiating from her. They had let things rot and fester between them like a bad wound for too long.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t feel relieved.”

It was the last straw for Kyra. “You are a monster,” she hissed lowly. “How dare you…”

Kassandra laughed, not the usual one, loud and boisterous. This one was bitter, shrill and accusatory, as her hands motioned to herself. “How dare I?” she laughed again, looking away, shaking her head and then back at the other. “You? The wife of a Spartan general?” she scoffed. “You think he would have let you rule while he stood in the sidelines? You think he would have been fine with you taking his glory? Leading his land? You think he’d have been proud of you?” she took a step forward, towering over her. “He didn’t see you, Kyra and you knew. That’s why you let this...” her hand motioned at the space between them again. “Happen. That’s why you didn’t tell him anything until he found out.”

“Not another word, Kassandra,” she cut, eyes flashing with violence. “Do not speak another word.”

The other woman ignored her warning and went on. “You would rather take your own life than be caged like this.” Kyra’s face paled, recalling that night by the beach. So close to the edge. “That’s why you didn’t mourn his death like you did Podarkes.”

It would have taken one step. Only one.

If Kassandra hadn’t talked her out of it.

“I’m not judging you, Kyra,” she said, tilting her head to search her eyes. “I understood then, and I understand now.”

Kyra started shaking her head. “It’s…”

“In the past,” she finished for her, taking that final step, a gentle touch on her cheek. “It’s in the past.”

She felt the other woman lean in her open palm before Kyra closed her eyes shut and took a sharp step back, as if burnt. Kassandra’s hand hung in the air for a second, she let it fall at her side with a sigh. “We need to talk about this, we really do,” she spoke softly. “But right now, you need help. Your people need help. Stop fighting me, please,” Kassandra wanted to reach out again but forced herself to stay still. “Let’s put this behind us while we deal with the situation. Together,” she lifted her arm again.

Kyra stared at her open hand, the turmoil was evident in her eyes. She frowned at it for so long, Kassandra had almost given up on making peace. The relieved sigh when the other woman reached for it was as loud as it was unexpected.

“For my people,” Kyra said with a strong hold on her forearm.

Kassandra nodded. “For your people.”

When they stepped out of the house, Praxos was nowhere to be seen. They found him in the cave, talking to Lara, quietly.

Kassandra’s brow creased in a frown. Lara’s fleeting glare was a sharp reminder that she needed to speak with her, too. With the current situation, it had slipped her mind.

“… can give you shelter outside if you prefer.”

Lara nodded slowly. “Thank you, I…”

“You and Kassandra can stay at the house by the cliff, south of here. If you want,” Kyra interrupted, once they were close enough. “It is sheltered by trees. The Spartans can’t see you.”

The archeologist blinked, surprised by the proposition. The suggestion hadn’t been snide or tinted with animosity. It threw her off. “Thank you,” she nodded again, visibly puzzled. “I apo—”

Kyra waved her hand, brisk and dismissive. “No need. Not now,” she gave Kassandra a long, inquisitive look before shaking her head. “We all need rest, I believe. We will speak tomorrow,” she turned her attention to the man. “Give them dry clothes, and anything they might need.”

Both women bowed and followed Praxos outside of the cave. They exchanged no words on their way to the small house. Not until the door was closed and Lara made sure the man wasn’t within earshot.

 _Here we go_ , Kassandra took a deep breath. She already had a horrendous headache because of Kyra and now Lara giving her  _that_  look, arms crossed, standing by the door, exactly like she’d been when talking to the archon earlier.

“You said she was your friend.”

“I said she was my friend,” Kassandra conceded. “Not that I was hers.”

She walked towards the center of the room, putting the clothes Praxos had given them on the table, before sitting down to relieve her wounded leg. She’d forgotten about it. The adrenaline had worn off and it was starting to sting again, though it didn’t bleed.

There was a cot that looked comfortable, by the opposite window. Large enough for two. They would have to share. Or maybe Lara was going to kick her out and make her sleep outside. Kassandra wouldn’t even blame her. She did deserve it, after all.

The other woman didn’t buy her sorry-ass excuse. Not one bit. “Lying by omission is still lying,” her arms fell at her sides, limply. “I thought we were past this.”

She didn’t sound upset. Disappointed, more like, which made Kassandra feel even worse. They had learned to trust each other over the months, and she even enjoyed Lara as a travel companion (weird quirks included). It was nice to have someone to talk to who wasn’t a bird, someone who could actually answer and hold a conversation. Kassandra knew she had messed up.

“I’m sorry,” she raised her hand in apology. “I should have told you. Kyra and I…” she slumped over the seat, rubbing her face tiredly. “We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

Lara rolled her eyes at her. “I figured, thank you. Why?”

Gods, did she get sassy sometimes. Kassandra smiled despite herself, though she wiped it off quickly when the other woman gave her a pointed stare.

“Kassandra,” it came out almost like a growl. “Why?”

Hazel eyes drifted everywhere, trying to find a spot that wasn’t the woman currently glaring a hole in her. Her gaze was unwavering, she didn’t even blink. Kassandra’s eyes settled on the nook and crannies of the plank covering the window near Lara.

“I…” she started, uncharacteristically meek and quiet. “I might have killed her future husband.”

Her face remained impassive, only her eyebrow went up. “Might?”

Kassandra clapped her tongue, admitting defeat as she finally dared to hold her gaze. “I killed him.”

Lara’s eyes glazed a little as she processed the information. The other woman could see the wheels turning in her head. “A contract?” she asked after a pause.

She shook her head. How could she explain the situation without sounding like a complete self-absorbed ass?

_I fucked his wife. He found out and pissed me off, so I killed him._

Um. No.

_He attacked me on a beach after he found out I fucked his wife. It pissed me off, so I killed him._

Neither.

_He didn’t listen when I tried to talk to him, and it pissed me off._

Lame.

_He prattled about stolen glory and women like they were things to be owned and it pissed me off._

Maybe?

It sounded bad, no matter how Kassandra tried to shift it in her head. There was no way she would come out of it unscathed, no. Lara’s esteem for her would plummet and sink like a rock at the bottom of the ocean. The selfish misthios who thought with her crotch and spoke with her fists, that’s what she was. Big and dumb. That’s what Lara would think, anyway.

She didn’t want her to. To her utter horror, Kassandra realized she cared about what Lara thought of her. More than she would like to admit.

Better be honest, anyway. The archeologist had a keen eye for deceit. “Kyra and I hit it off when I first arrived here,” she explained, forcing herself to keep looking at Lara as she spoke. “I knew she was with Thaletas, but…”

“You still went for it,” the other supplied with an even voice.

“Not exactly.” Kassandra shook her head. “I warned her, when it became obvious that she had a thing… for me, I mean. I told her we couldn’t go around his back. That she would have to tell him the truth.”

That her (broken) heart had been spoken for, even if Daphnae, with her tear-streaked cheeks and anguished eyes, had vowed to kill her should she set foot on Chios ever again. That she wasn’t going to settle. That this was lust, easy, casual and uncomplicated. Kyra had readily accepted all her conditions, except one: Thaletas.

She had been burnt by Daphnae’s threats, her words etched deep in her soul, her heart aching with grief. Kassandra hadn’t been thinking straight at the time, all she wanted was to  _forget_. Not to have this weight, this lump knotting and knotting and hurting in her stomach. If only for a couple of hours, or days if she was lucky. She knew it was no excuse, but it was the truth. She had been vulnerable. Had used Kyra, like Kyra had used Thaletas.

It had backfired for both of them.

“And you still went for it,” Lara repeated. No judgment, never. Just plain facts. She was trying to understand.

“Kyra said she would tell Thaletas, eventually,” Kassandra explained. “But he needed to focus on winning their rebellion first,” she swallowed, managing a weak smile. “You know Spartans. We don’t think, we do one thing at a time.”

Self-roasting did not have the effect she hoped. Lara just looked at her with a blank expression, waiting.

“He found out,” she said, just as the other woman mumbled ‘of course’ under her breath and shook her head. “He attacked me on the beach. I had to defend myself.”

That made Lara frown. She wasn’t convinced. “You could have knocked him out.”

_I didn’t want to._

Her silence spoke louder than words.

“I could have.”

She was expecting Lara to go on and properly lecture her, maybe tell her to get out and think about what she’d done. But none of that happened, all she did was sigh quietly and look away, pinching the bridge of her nose. A telltale sign, Kassandra had learned. Lara was absolutely exhausted. The day had been long, longer than it should have, for both of them.

Sure enough, Lara spoke. “We need to rest,” she approached her. “Let me look at your leg, first.”

The woman nodded wordlessly.

* * *

 

 

Lara did not think much of the odd glint in Kassandra’s eyes when they lied in the cot. Not until she reached with her left hand and grabbed the axe by the pillow to move it to the other side, away from the young woman. Kassandra had joked about them sleeping too close to one another and how she wouldn’t risk getting stabbed for accidentally kicking Lara in the shin.

A joke.

A joke that hid genuine concern. A joke that turned into ‘not-a-joke’ as Lara had another one of her night episodes and reached blindly for the space where the axe should have been, before she panicked and, in her hazed state, tried to choke Kassandra, who had the misfortune of breathing a wee bit too close to her shoulder. The one that had been mauled by a jaguar in Peru.

Lara did not remember her nightmare, just that she woke up with their limbs tangled, her own hands trying to wrap around the woman's throat as Kassandra caught her wrists and drew Lara close instead of pushing her away.

There was a buzzing echo in her ears that tuned out everything else. Lara felt the vibrations rumbling through Kassandra’s chest when she spoke, holding her in a tight embrace, trapping her hands between their bodies when the archeologist tried to fight her off. Anchoring her.

“…afe,” she was whispering. “You are safe. It’s only a nightmare. Only a nightmare.”

A nightmare that left her shaking like a leaf and feeling so powerless, tears stung her eyes, begging to fall. She swallowed shakily, doing a piss poor job at stifling her sob when her brain caught up with reality and what she’d just done. Or tried to.

What a joke she was. A husk of her former self. A little girl afraid of the dark who would lash out every time her mind was too drained and weak to keep the monsters at bay. It was exhausting. She was just so  _tired_ of fighting chimeras.

“Are you awake?” Kassandra asked after a while, feeling Lara’s feeble nod in the crook of her neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. What would she say anyway? There was nothing to talk about.

“Okay,” silence stretched between them, but Lara couldn’t catch her breath, no matter how hard she tried. Her heart kept hammering in her veins, chest rising and falling, erratic and shallow. And the tears, the tears wouldn’t fall.

Was she going to get a panic attack, too, on top of it?

Kassandra squeezed, tightening her embrace, almost crushingly so. “Let’s do it together, okay? Breathe with me. Can you do that, Lara?”

The woman nodded again, feeling Kassandra’s ribcage expand slowly as she inhaled. Lara did the same, holding her breath until the body against hers deflated. Once, twice, three times, again and again.

“Good,” she encouraged. “Deep and slow, keep going.”

They breathed, inhale for inhale, exhale for exhale until Lara’s trembling subdued. “Thank you,” she muttered, shaky and rough, when she regained enough control over her body.

Kassandra said nothing, though Lara could hear her think. She opened her mouth a couple of times and closed it. Shifting, she let her arms fall from the young woman. “Turn around,” she said. “Give me your back.”

The request was puzzling, but Kassandra’s hand was already on her shoulder, prompting her to move. Lara stiffened as soon as she felt fingers lift the hem of her cropped chiton. She caught her wrist in a death grip.

“What are you doing?” she swallowed thickly, eyes wide in the dark. The physical closeness that had been comforting only a few moments ago was suddenly smoldering her.

“This will help you,” she replied. “Do you trust me?” Lara bit her lip, breathing a little louder. After a long while, she let go of her wrist. Tacit consent, or resignation maybe. Lara didn’t know. Probably a mix of both. “I used to do that to my brother when he woke me up,” Kassandra whispered, to reassure her.

“I’m not a baby,” Lara’s retort was weak, but she didn’t stiffen when fingers slipped under her chiton and traveled up her spine. Not too much at least.

“You’re not a man either, so what’s your point?”

Lara only huffed when Kassandra shushed her. Baby or not, she could feel her heartbeat settle and the tension ebb slowly from her limbs. It had been so long since she’d let anyone touch her, let alone on her back when it wasn’t clothed. Her fight with the jaguar in Peru had left horrid scarring; fine white lines, teeth imprints and puckered marks on her shoulder blades where the animal had pawed at her with its claws again and again.  

Lara had hidden them from everyone, except Jonah when he had tended to her wounds. It was easy to ignore, most of the time. The bathroom mirrors at the Manor were unforgiving reminders that she faced after each shower. But at least it was just her and herself.

Unlike now.

Lara knew it was dark and there was no way to see, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Kassandra would feel them, and it frightened her beyond belief. She felt bare, scared as if standing under a magnifying light.

When Kassandra’s fingers ran over the first scar crossing from her spine to her side, she tensed up again.

“Relax,” the woman said in a quiet murmur. Tracing Lara’s spine up with her nail, then down with the side of her thumb. Up and down, up and down until Lara got used it and mellowed under her touch.

Her hand went from side to side, deliberate and slow. There was no curious probing, no question asked; only silent exploration as the tips of her fingers traveled from one shoulder to the other, sometimes retracing the scars, sometimes just passing over them. Lara forced herself to focus on the touch, the slightly calloused bumps of Kassandra’s fingers, where she could feel them on her scarred skin.

She didn’t think it was possible to feel vulnerable and safe at the same time. To be at the mercy of someone’s touch like this. It was terrifying, her body screaming for her mind to let go and sleep, the caresses lulling her into relinquishing control, to just feel and not think.

Lara gave in.

It didn’t take long for her breathing to deepen and slow down, blinking in the dark, eyes opening and closing every time for a little bit longer until she drifted off.  

Kassandra’s hand stayed there, its weight warm and comforting on her back, long after they both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> I’ll just leave this here.
> 
> Ubisoft kinda forgot Kyra became the Archon/Leader of Mykonos after Podarkes’ death, didn’t they? I couldn’t find her on the island afterwards. And she was HELL to write. She is HELL. I can’t pine her down, she’s so freaking hard. Fuck it. I’m sorry if she seems OOC here. Really, I am. I tried. She'll be more proactive next chapter, too.


	8. Chapitre Huit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. Mykonos will have three chapters because my brain does not comprehend the notion of being concise in writing.  
> Since I haven’t finished the Atlantis DLCs, we’ll conveniently ignore them because I planned things ahead and whatever new lore they incorporated in the last eps messes with my plot. Sorry! I might use a couple of things later, if it fits, but for now it doesn’t. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everybody who’s commented, kudo-ed and followed this story. I’m so grateful. Next chapter will be delayed because I’ll be busy moving (yay) and won’t have the internet (nay) or access to my computer for a bit. (nay x2). 
> 
> Slight change: I’m using the book canon about Ikaros.
> 
> Skeuos means bag/baggage.

 

 

Heat.

Is what she is thinking about when Kassandra’s tongue travels languidly from the hollow of her neck to her navel. Kyra jolts, ticklish, her belly twitching with the spasms of unexpected, high-pitched giggles. She feels small puffs of air on her skin, where Kassandra chuckles, too.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, kissing just below Kyra’s navel and caressing her leg.

Selene looks upon them as Kassandra’s nails leave burning trails from her hip to her thigh, wrapping under her knee, sliding it up and above her strong shoulder.

Kyra sighs. Kassandra’s touch is velvet, slow and deliberate, her mouth travels, maps, licks and nibbles. She takes notes; every twitch of Kyra’s body, every motion of her hips. It speaks because Kyra won’t, because it’s too easy otherwise. Because she wants Kassandra to work for it.

(And she gladly obliges. Always rises to the challenge.)

 _There. There, stay there. Right there. Yes,_ it says when those lips finally, finally reach her inner thigh. Slow, and teasing. They blow hot and cold on her skin before they leave altogether. The frustration is exquisite, it’s making her shake all over.

Kyra wants to growl at her, mouth open, at the ready, but it’s a moan that comes out when the tip of Kassandra’s tongue touches her, tastes her. Curious and insistent. She shifts, angles Kyra’s pliant body, bringing it closer, lips closing in, tongue swirling and swirling again.

Kyra’s hips rise, gyrate, chase her touch one second, shy away from it the next. They dance like that for a while, every sigh, every moan that comes out of her mouth is answered by Kassandra’s hums. She feels their echo through her, from where Kassandra’s tongue is lapping and worshipping, to the tip of her toes. The muscles of her back, her shoulders, shift and flex, like a predator looming over. Kyra can’t look away. Won’t.

She feels herself drift, feels the quacking of her thigh wrapped around the other woman’s head, feels her body give in and it’s glorious. It’s beautiful. It’s exactly what she needs.

Kassandra brings her down gently, caressing her leg, massaging her quivering belly, dropping kisses on her hips, lingering on her breasts as she makes her way up, always slow, always attentive.

It almost fools Kyra into thinking that she cares.

Almost.

The magic breaks when their eyes meet. Kassandra smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, she kisses Kyra, but her lips taste of ash and her brow is creased with how tight her eyes are shut.

It’s not Kyra she’s thinking about. It’s not her she sees. It’s not her she _wants_ to see.

She thought she would be fine with this, and really, she is. Kassandra is a caring lover, an incredible one, even. Thaletas is okay, but there’s always that moment, that instant where he gets in his own head, when it becomes about him alone and not them.

It’s different with Kassandra.

The illusion shatters only after they are done, when she’s jolted back from whatever haven she flees to during those moments.

Kyra can pretend Kassandra sees her then. It’s enough.

It should be.

Somehow, it’s not.

But Kyra doesn’t want to talk about it, so she lets her body speak for her instead.

 _Look at me. See me_.

Is what her hand says as it travels from her tousled hair to wrap around Kassandra’s throat. Fingers squeeze, light, just enough to make her open her eyes.

 _See. Me_.

They move, Kyra’s legs around her hips, shifting until Kassandra is on her back, eyes glinting, almost grey in the moonlight. Kyra peers down at her, squeezes again until they focus back on her. She moves with purpose against Kassandra, slow, enough to stroke the embers, get them to start again. Kyra’s other hand travels behind her, she arches her back with the movement, Kassandra’s fingers are on her breasts instantly. They squeeze and rub, she tries to lean up to replace them with her mouth, but Kyra has her pinned. Her thumb pushing on her windpipe a little.

Kassandra wheezes slightly, pupils blown dark. She relents, runs her fingers on Kyra’s abdomen instead, feels the muscles twitch, tense and relax with the back and forth of her hips.

She closes her eyes, neck craned upward, mouth agape in a quiet sigh when Kyra touches her. Her fingers move around blindly for a second, feeling the heat radiating from Kassandra. Heat. There’s a low moan, long and drawn that ends in a hiccup when Kyra’s touch becomes more frank, more purposeful. She feels Kassandra all around her fingers, grinding her hips in rhythm with them.

They move against each other, bodies slick when Kyra topples over without stopping her motions. Somehow, one of Kassandra’s hands wriggled its way between them and buried itself between her legs. It surprises them both, but they don’t stop.

Kyra’s hair curtains them, but even so, with the moonlight filtering, she notes that Kassandra’s eyes are closed again. She’s fleeing.

Kyra stops.

Kassandra’s brow creases, a sigh halfway through her mouth. She opens her eyes to see Kyra staring back at her. The tip of their noses touching, breath mingling. She squeezes again, just a bit more.

Kassandra gets the message. The motions resume and she squints with the sensations, but her eyes do not close.

_See me._

Kyra licks at her upper lip, traps it in her mouth, slides her tongue on the tiny scar, and swallows Kassandra’s moans when they get louder. Kyra can feel a hand threading through her hair, gathering it in a fist, just as Kassandra convulses under her.

She tugs, forcing Kyra to expose her neck to her greedy mouth and face the rising sun. Kassandra’s other hand is still between her legs, still moving, harder, faster. She hears the sound it makes (wonderful, obscene), can feel the tears in her eyes at the sharp sting on her skull. It’s heavenly, the spasms taking over her body. Kassandra is relentless, she bites.

Kyra screams.

…

The sweat hasn’t had the time to dry from their bodies that Kassandra is already up, hiding Kyra’s marks under her chiton. Her grey shawl will do a very poor job at covering the bruises around her neck, and Kyra appreciates that. Kassandra might not want to see her anymore, but others will.

“Where are you going?”

Her movements are fast, precise, honed by the years. Breastplate in place, Kassandra crouches to wrap protective bandages around her shins and ankles. Her fingers are swift, working in cadence, tying the sandals’ leather laces in quick but strong knots before putting on the greaves. She doesn’t blink, keeps her eyes down as she replies, “To convince Thaletas that he needs to rethink his plan about raiding Podarkes’ house.”

Kyra’s face scrunches into a scowl. Kassandra was back to business, her voice neutral and matter-of-fact, as it always is when she speaks of battle plans. Kyra would be lying if she said it didn’t sting. “Now?”

Kassandra nods, looks up but doesn’t see her when their eyes meet. The magic is gone. “He wants to attack Athenians on the beach, I have to get there before it happens.”

Before he does something stupid, is what her tone says. Kyra knows, she understands. Thaletas is okay, but he is an inflexible bullhead. The archetype of a Spartan soldier. His men love him, Sparta loves him.

Kyra… feels something. For him. For Kassandra, too.

She flops back on the grass with a sigh. The other woman leans over her body to reach her weapons on the other side. It’s nothing, it’s innocuous.

It means she doesn’t see her.

Kyra bites her lip. Hard. “Will I see you?” she blurts and hates herself the moment it’s out. She sounds needy. Vulnerable. “Tonight?”

Kassandra is already walking away, half-turning around to look back. “Maybe,” she says with a smile.

She doesn’t see her.

* * *

 

Kyra was giving them that look. While it didn’t seem to faze Kassandra much, it made Lara thoroughly awkward. Her humongous right-hand man, Praxos was standing near the table, looking at the map and doing a really good job at pretending he didn’t notice the raging standoff going on. She thought a night of sleep would have mellowed the other woman, but Lara was clearly wrong, and Kyra had woken up even more suspicious of them.

“We didn’t get to have a proper introduction, yesterday,” the way she spoke, the nonchalance that laced her words made Lara apprehensive. Objectively, there was nothing to fear, but the young woman had this hunch… “Kyra of Mykonos,” her hand rose.

Lara took it, the grip on her forearm strong but not bruising. She could feel the tips of Kyra’s fingers, the way they prodded around discreetly, curious of her strength. Assessing. “Lara.”

Kyra was waiting for something and she didn’t know what. When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to speak again, the archon’s brow went up. “Lara of…?”

There it was. She had walked right into it like a rookie. No one had ever asked _that_ before because no one cared. Britain had yet to be discovered, let alone given a name. Romans would get to it in a couple of centuries. Now, it was just islands inhabited by a bunch of Celtic tribes.

“Uh…”

“Kyra,” Kassandra gritted out in warning. “This isn’t the time.”

Her eyes shifted from Lara to the other woman behind her. “If she is going to help as you said, I want to know more about her, can you blame me?”

Lara bit the inside of her lip. The cock fight between those two was getting on her nerves, and while she appreciated Kassandra coming to her rescue, she was not going to win anyone’s respect by standing idle. A damsel in distress she was not. Kyra would have to deal with her, and Lara was going to bare her teeth.

“I come from an island,” she spoke firmly, squeezing her arm to get the woman’s attention back on her. “North of Greece. It’s too far away to be on your maps,” if she kept things vague enough, there shouldn’t be any issue. “You don’t need to know what it’s called. You don’t need to know anything about it,” she finished with a clipped tone.

“Bold.” Kyra tilted her head, “And why is that?” brow creasing with how she squinted at her. “You could be a spy for the Athenians. Or Spartans,” she released the archeologist, waving her hand. “They could have paid you to come here.”

Lara had yet to visit any of those cities. And to think she was on her way to Athens before this whole ordeal. The thought made her sigh; something that Kyra mistook for an admission of guilt.

But she was not going to let her have it. Lara opened her mouth before the archon could speak. “I came here because Kassandra said you were her friend and you needed help. That is all,” she held Kyra’s gaze and crossed her arms in defiance. “Whether you believe me or not is up to you, but she wouldn’t have trusted me with this information if she didn’t.”

Take that.

It was petty, it was snide, and it was exactly what she needed to make Kyra piss off. Figuratively.

Lara saw it, then; how her eye twitched fleetingly when she glanced from her to Kassandra. Her face was carefully blank, but she caught that quick spark, that split second, the flash in her angry brown eyes. Disapproving and accusatory. _How dare you_ , it said. Lara couldn’t see Kassandra’s face behind her, she assumed her to be scowling just as hard.

“Actions speak louder than words,” Praxos’ voice rumbled, effectively breaking the rising tension. He rubbed his beard, ignoring the two other women to observe Lara acutely from head to toe. “You can swim, foreigner, but can you fight?” she nodded, and he beckoned her closer to the table. “Then what can you tell us about this?”

Lara stared at the map of Mykonos and Delos. Small wooden blocks were disposed on it; blue for Athens, red for Sparta and brown for the rebels. The red blocks were surrounding the island while the blue ones were spread aimlessly.

“We counted ten ships,” she removed a block while shifting the others, “Here. Here,” three south. “And here,” and moved to the blue ones. “Athenians are on the northern part of Delos, the beach there. And the main port, over there.”

Praxos nodded along, focused on the map. “How many men?”

“A few hundred,” less than a thousand for sure. Athenians were playing the long game. They would wait until Sparta gave the assault before finishing them off after the battle.

He nodded again, coming to the same conclusion. Kyra rounded the table to stand beside him, leaning over the table. “We do not have a lot of warriors, but they’re fierce,” she placed the brown blocks around the island. “I have archers and scouts on the highest points. The rest is in the caves.”

Whatever stare down she and Kassandra just had must have worked because she sounded a lot less cross now, even if she refused to look from the map.

Lara cleared her throat. “I don’t think the archers can do much,” Kyra’s head snapped up, she hurried to explain. “No offense, but if Spartans raid the island, a few arrows won’t stop them.”

There were too many of them. Praxos rubbed his ear, thoughtful. “She is right we…”

“Then let’s prevent them from reaching the island,” Kassandra said as she stepped next to the archeologist.

Kyra stared at her like the mere notion of it was ridiculous. “And how do you suggest we do that when they’re sieging us?” though she had reigned on the snark.

Kassandra frowned at the table, thumb on her chin, moving up and down, retracing the scar there absentmindedly. “Sparta’s army is invincible on the battlefield,” she began. “But their fleet is weak. While Athens…” she grabbed one of the blue blocks, tossing it in the air before catching it, “Has a strong fleet, but weak troops,” and putting it back. “We keep Spartans on their ships, and we force Athenians into battle on the land.”

Having the three of them blinking incredulously at her didn’t deter Kassandra from nodding at the plan she had just concocted, looking very pleased with herself.

Kyra was not impressed, however. “Again,” she said. “How do you suggest we do that, misthios?”

Lara’s eyes shifted from the map to Kassandra’s profile in quick succession, thinking over her words when it finally clicked. “Blow them up,” she blurted.

“Fire,” Kassandra said at the same time before shooting her a warning glance.

_Shit._

“Fire,” Lara repeated, hoping her mishap went undetected. The other woman nodded along with her. “We burn their ships before they can reach us.”

Praxos and Kyra exchanged a long, perplexed look. It did sound crazy, even to Lara. A bold plan, a very dangerous one, too. She didn’t expect any less from Kassandra, but where were they going to find explosives here?

Kassandra took the lead, leaving everybody in the dust as she went on with her plan. “With a coordinated attack on all their ships, they won’t have time to reach the shore. If we play this well, there will be only a few survivors, we can take care of them on the beach.”

Kyra blinked slowly, wetting her lips. “If this works…”

“It will work,” Kassandra assured.

“ _If_ this works,” she repeated, giving her a pointed look. “Athenians won’t wait to attack.”

Lara nodded; they would have a couple of hours at best. Maybe a day, if they were really lucky. “We have to get everything ready before attacking the ships. Traps and trenches. Maybe hidden archers to take the Athenians out when they come.”

Kassandra’s face lighted up, she was beaming when she looked at Lara. “Good thinking,” her right arm rose, tensed and fell at her side, dangling stiffly, as if she had wanted to pat Lara on the back and talked herself out of it at the last moment.

“What about the civilians?” Praxos’ wrinkles had smoothed over the conversation. He was even starting to get optimistic.

“In the caves?” Kassandra suggested, prompted by his nod. “Anyone too young, old or weak to hold a sword will stay in the caves. Let’s empty the city.”

Kyra stood from her leaned position, staring at the three of them in silence. “We don’t have much food to go on, silos are almost empty, and water will dry up soon,” she glanced away and then back at them, lips drawn in a thin line and eyes shining with determination. “We have to be quick.”

They did not waste time. Kyra commandeered every able-bodied man, woman, and child to dig deep trenches all around the island. They worked at night, when Spartans’ scrutiny was dulled by wine and the lack of sleep. Traps were set in the most innocuous places; the bridges crossing the city were dismantled, only to be littered with wobbly planks of rotten wood that would give out under the soldiers’ weight and send them to the sharks in the canals, or down a deep hole filled with snakes. Wooden spikes were buried in the sand, ready to spring out at the cut of a rope. The smith was moved to one of the hideouts to work relentlessly, making swords after swords, armor parts and axes, from dusk till dawn.

Kassandra and Praxos supervised battle training when all the traps were set. Lara and Kyra busied themselves with the archers. She taught them how to make poisoned arrows from hallucinogenic plants and honed their agility, while Kyra worked on their stamina and focus. They did make a great team, though Kyra’s guard was still up around her. After a couple of attempts to break the ice of brittle civility – even offering to go hunting ibexes with her, Lara gave up. It just wasn’t going to work between them. Whatever (justified, she reminded herself) grudge Kyra still held against Kassandra, it extended to her by association.

Lara and Kassandra rarely saw one another outside of grouped meals or war meetings. They never slept at the same time. It was more or less deliberate on the archeologist’s part. One, because she did not want to risk another ‘whoops, I tried to kill you again’ moment, and two because she did not want to talk about that night either. The morning after had been a tricky affair. Lara had woken up lying half on top of Kassandra, head nestled under her chin, with the woman’s hand still on her back beneath her cropped chiton. Kassandra appeared to be sound asleep; chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Lara blamed her touch-starved body, she’d always been a cuddly sleeper, but it hadn’t been that bad in _years._ She had contorted her limbs sideways, using skills she hadn’t needed since her gymnast days to extricate herself from the bed without waking her up.

They hadn’t talked about it, to Lara’s greatest relief. With the preparations going on, their schedules were often at odds, and even when it wasn’t the case, and they would find themselves in the house at the same time, Lara would conveniently leave to ‘for a quick wash’ in the stream that crossed the path, further down. In truth, she would fade into the forest, find a tree with sturdy, thick branches and sleep there, like she used to at the Manor, when she was little. Sneaking right under Winston’s nose to climb the oaks in the gardens to nap instead of her very comfortable bed. He would find her, sometimes right away, sometimes hours later, with her limbs dangling from where she was perched up.

Trunks and branches could make a comfortable bed, if one squinted hard enough. At least, Kassandra could catch a few hours without having to worry about getting slashed to death, Lara reasoned.

It worked well, she thought she had her completely fooled.

Except, not at all.

On an excessively windy evening, the archeologist was sitting at the table in the small house, writing notes in her journal, lulled by the whistling and howling of the wind outside when Kassandra slammed the door open, holding two bowls of ibex stew in one hand while balancing a small loaf of bread, olive oil, and figs in the other. It reminded Lara of her bartending days.

“If you don’t come to dinner,” she said enthusiastically, closing the door with her foot and moving her head up and down to remove the hood. “Dinner will come to you.” Kassandra cleared the table, letting out a loud ‘pssht’ sound with shooing motions, prompting Lara to close her journal and put it away.

“That’s a lot of food,” they had been rationing it for the past couple of weeks. There were _a lot_ of mouths to feed on Mykonos, and only so many ibexes they could hunt. She observed as Kassandra placed everything, waving her hands with added flourish and a _ta-da_ , once she was done. It made Lara chuckle; she rarely showed this dorky side of her.

“Straight from Delos. Except the meat,” Kassandra sat down, tearing a piece of bread to dip in olive oil before popping it in her mouth. “People there are quietly rallying behind the rebels. They won’t fight, but they’re smuggling supplies when they can. There’s a feast in the main hideout, right now.”

“That’s good to hear.” Lara blew on her bowl and brought it to her lips. She grimaced as soon as that first gulp hit her tongue.

Kassandra smiled knowingly. “Bland?”

“A little,” she admitted with a small nod. Her palate wasn’t professionally trained, but still. If boring had a taste, that would be it.

Or porridge maybe. Porridge tasted boring, too.

The other woman let out a dramatic sigh after a spoonful of the stew, grumbling, “I told them to season it many times, but nobody listens.” Lara saw her fumble under the table, before she produced a small pouch, tilting it to sprinkle the content in the bowl. “I’ve been gathering and drying those for months,” she said, before handing the pouch of herbs to Lara. “It’s not much, but it will make it taste better.”

“Thank you,” the second attempt had a lot more flavor. God, she would kill for some greasy fish and chips. Or a shish kebab, now that would clot her arteries just _right._

All of the things she had rarely indulged in, if only she had known. When this whole thing was over and they were back to present time, Lara decided she would eat them. Eat them all, just because.

“So,” Kassandra said, after a relatively quiet meal. “Are you going to tell why you’ve been avoiding me or are you sleeping up a tree again, tonight?”

The way she always caught Lara off guard when she blurted things like that should be downright criminal, because this time it had almost killed her.

The young woman accidentally inhaled the flesh of the fig she had been eating. She felt it go through her nose and get stuck when she coughed. Pushing herself away from the table, Lara threw her head to the side, and sneezed the fruit out, using a cloth to dab her nose. Her face was completely flushed red, eyes burning with the pain.

Kassandra blinked, eyebrows quirking. “Impressive,” the word rolled out of her mouth, tinted with incredulity.

“Why did you do that?!” it came out gruffer than intended with how she was clutching the cloth close to her face. Her nostrils were raw and sticky from the fruit’s juices. It _hurt_.

“Excuse me?” she scoffed in disbelief, motioning at Lara with a brisk gesture. “How is that my fault? I didn’t know you'd snort a fig just because I asked a question!"

Only then, did the absurdity of the situation hit them. After a short pause, Kassandra couldn’t help it and guffawed loudly, throwing her head back, looking at Lara through brimming eyes crinkling with mirth. It was contagious, so contagious that the smile tugging at Lara’s lips broke into a grin before turning into full blown laughter.

Lara Croft, archeologist and adventurer extraordinaire killed by a fig at the ripe age of twenty-seven. Sam would have a field day with her epitaph.

It took them a few moments to regain their composure, though when she did, Kassandra’s face changed. She looked hesitant, as she frowned, eyes that had crinkled with glee only a moment ago were now drifting from Lara to her own hands. The archeologist was utterly confused by the abrupt shift of her mood.

“Was it… Did I…” she bit her lip. “Did I do something inappropriate?”

Lara stared at her dumbly, “What?” before she recalled her original question. “No!” she blurted out, shaking her head and waving her hands. “No, no, no. It’s not you.”

Misunderstanding did not even begin to cover what happened.

Lara had thought her plan to be infallible, she thought Kassandra wouldn’t notice, would be even grateful. She had been dense, in wanting to do the right thing, too wrapped in her own mind to realize that, not only did Kassandra notice her bailing out, but she thought she was responsible for it _._ It hadn’t even occurred to Lara that she would take her avoidance personally.

_Good job, Croft._

“I know you like to have your space,” Kassandra blabbered uncharacteristically, busying herself with the bowl, running the tip of her finger on the rim. “I’m sorry if I overstepped your boundaries, that night,” she glanced up without lifting her head. “I thought it would help.”

It did help. A whole lot, actually. She might have woken up in an embarrassing situation the following day (that was _all_ on her, really), but she had felt rested, her mind at ease. Until it processed the awkward positioning.

She had slept. She had slept soundly, without jerking awake at odd hours, drenched in cold sweat, panic clutching at her chest. It had been nice, for a change.

“No, Kassandra, please don’t. It’s not that, it’s not that at all.”

_I don’t know how to interact._

She had spoken those words months ago. It was true, she didn’t know how to talk to people, Lara had never been a social butterfly, but more than her inability to mingle easily with others, it was her ineptitude to open up and talk about her feelings that was the real problem. It just… it was so easy for Sam, for Jonah. When something was bothering them, they said it. When they were happy, they showed it. It never worked that way with her; Lara was so used to keeping everything to herself that she sometimes forgot her mutism could hurt the people she held dear. She had always been this way, Yamatai, the subsequent expeditions, and supernatural discoveries had just exacerbated that trait.

She had hurt Sam because of it, pushing her away and ignoring her attempts to reach out.

She had hurt Alex because of it, keeping a polite distance instead of just telling him point blank that she liked him as a friend and nothing else.  

She had almost lost Jonah because of it, too.

And now Kassandra.

This needed to change. _She_ needed to change.

Lara heaved a sigh, unconsciously hunching over herself. “I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t think you would notice…”

Kassandra puffed. “You’re tiny, but I do see it when you’re not around.”

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. It disappeared just as fast when her features turned grave. “It’s not safe if I stay the night,” her jaw clenched. She felt so small, admitting it out loud like this. “You know it, you saw what happened.”

“Not safe for who?” she titled her head, trying to make eye contact, but Lara wouldn’t look up from her folded hands on the table. “Certainly not me. I can’t die, remember?”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about that, Kassandra. Even in your case.”

_You should be able to sleep without keeping an eye out for the looney with an axe._

“I don’t worry,” she brushed Lara’s declaration off, tone breezy and light. “I’m not afraid,” she paused. “But you are.”

“Of course, I am.” her head snapped up, brow creased in a frown. How could she not be? This was ridiculous. “W-what if I axe you in my sleep? Or, or like that night?!” her voice rose a few octaves. It wasn’t anger; just plain disbelief at how casual Kassandra was about the whole thing.

“Well, _if_ it comes to that,” she cracked a smile, fetching the Caduceus pendant hidden in her breastplate. “As long as you don’t touch this, I will be back. No harm done. Good as new, you won’t even realize I was gone.”

Lara blinked at her once, twice, three times, eyes drifting from what she had thought to be an unassuming piece of jewelry to her beaming face. How could she make it sound so painfully simple and uncomplicated? “This wasn’t my point, Kassandra.”

(She made a mental note to ask more about the pendant, one day.)

Kassandra’s smile dropped; her features looked just as grave as Lara’s. There was no mirth in her eyes when she said, “Then we will deal with it.”

“It’s not as easy as y—”

“I didn’t say it was easy,” she cut her off softly, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I said we would deal with it. Whenever it happens. However it happens. Whatever you need. If you want space, I will give you space, but don’t shut yourself out because you think it’s safer.” she grinned, light and humorous again, squeezing her hand. “You have permission to stab me, deal?” her eyes narrowed, thinking over what she had just said, “Only in your sleep, though. Not when you’re angry with me.”

It got a chuckle from Lara. She sighed, feeling both weirdly elated and emotionally drained. Lighter, like a weight had been lifted and she could breathe again.

“Together, okay?”

Kassandra’s eyes bore into hers intently, to the point she could see the specs of amber dotting around her pupils. Caught off guard ( _again_ ), Lara felt the heat rise from her chest all the way to her cheeks, flushing bright red. “Okay,” she said meekly, puzzled by her body’s reaction.

Kassandra released her hand with a satisfied nod before grinning again. “I can’t believe you slept on a tree for weeks. How did you do that?”

Lara smirked. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

* * *

 

They did not have much time left. Spartans had grown restless and more aggressive in their endeavor, feeling that something was brewing on the island. If Mykonos did not abdicate soon, they would swarm the city and burn it to the ground.

Fortunately, the bulk of the preparations for the upcoming battles were finished and they did not need to work at night anymore. The only thing left to do was finding a way to burn their ships simultaneously, or quickly enough to make them scatter. Kassandra had been thinking about it ever since that first meeting. Bouncing ideas with Lara before they dozed off. The epiphany came after much pondering and a couple of sleepless nights spent talking until exhaustion slurred their words and turned them into a scrambled mess of GreekoEnglish.

“Do you know how to make fire arrows?” she fell on the cot next to the archeologist and took advantage of the bounce to flip on her back in a swift motion.

“Yes, with the right supplies,” Lara did not look up from her writing, squinting under the candlelight. “Like gun powder. Which we don’t have, mind you,” her tone was dry.

Kassandra grinned. “We do,” she bolted out of the bed, grabbed her _skeuos_ and came back, eyes sparkling when she revealed the gun. Lara gaped at her. “I went back to retrieve some things. Thought we would need it.”

“You’re a genius,” Lara said. She closed her journal, grabbed the gun and pulled the magazine out to inspect it.

“I sure am,” she bowed, very proud of herself and Lara for recognizing the obvious. “How many arrows can you make with those?”

“Plenty,” the archeologist replied after counting the bullets. “Enough to light them up, but…” she trailed off with a frown, looking back at her with pursed lips.

“It won’t blow up the ships,” Kassandra finished. She had anticipated that. Her grin got even bigger. “Have you heard of Greek fire?” she asked after a while, practically vibrating with excitement.

Lara’s eyes glazed a little as she rummaged in her head. Kassandra saw it happen on her face, how it shifted, going from confused to dumbfounded a few moments later when it finally clicked, her mouth hanging open in a silent gasp. Lara stared at her like she had grown a second head.

“You can’t be serious.”

Oh, but yes, she was very serious.

Her silence was telling. The young woman shook her head. “You can’t, it hasn’t been invented yet. We’re _hundreds_ of years ahead.”

Kassandra tsked. She knew it would be difficult to convince Lara, but she was not going to give up. It was their best option, if not the only one they had to defeat Sparta’s army. “It would only be once, and nobody has to know what we’re doing—what you’re doing,” she corrected.

She had experimented with warfare equipment throughout millennia. Each new weapon, each new technology Kassandra got her hands on had been dismantled to be carefully studied. And while she could make a few chosen (and very deadly) bombs, the Eagle Bearer did not have this kind of knowledge yet. Kyra had already looked at her funny when Kassandra asked her and her men to keep her involvement here a secret; she didn’t need to worsen her case by pulling some advanced technology out of thin air.

Lara did not have the same restrictions. As a foreigner, she had enough leeway that they would not be assaulting her with questions. Not like her anyway.

“I will give you the recipe, but you will have to do it alone. They can’t know it’s coming from me,” she clarified when the other woman did not speak.

“And how do I explain it?” Lara put the gun away and turned back to give her a very dubitative look. It was obvious that she was still on the fence.

Kassandra cracked a smile, a glint of mischief in her eyes. There came the best part. “Sorcery,” she said, wiggling her fingers in the air in a circular motion. The archeologist was not impressed, her face scrunched in a grimace. “The Gods have blessed you with Hephaistos’ craftsmanship.”

“This isn’t funny, Kassandra.”

The grin wouldn’t leave her face, despite Lara’s half-hearted scowl. She was biting her lip, but Kassandra could see her smothering a smile. “I am not joking. You don’t need to explain anything. They will come up with something themselves. Something they can understand and rationalize.”

Hence, the Gods.

They were silent for a long while. Kassandra scratched her cheek, slumping down to lie back on the bed, and stare at the ceiling. She bit her lip, pondering over her words for a moment before she finally made up her mind.

“When I fell from Mount Taygetos, I hit a lot of branches. They slowed me down,” might as well have saved her life, though they were responsible for the scar across her upper lip and the hook-shaped one on her chin.

She swallowed, retracing them with her fingertip absentmindedly. Only Daphnae knew the story behind those. She went on, feeling Lara’s attention on her. “There was a nest in one of the trees; I must have hit it when I landed on the trunk,” breathing again. “When I came to, it was on the ground next to me. There was an egg inside, no bigger than a tennis ball. Somehow it had survived the fall.”

Pythagoras, she thought with some bitterness.

“I took it with me when I ran away. I told myself I could always eat it when I got hungry,” she smiled, remembering how Myrinne had fed her on raw eggs since she could walk. She had taught Kassandra everything, how to track game, how to survive, how to hold her spear with a strong, unwavering grip and never second guess herself in combat. She wouldn’t have made it out alive if it weren’t for her teachings.

“I didn’t eat it, but then this storm struck, and I thought I was going to drown. I could barely swim back then. Pat—Nikolaos had just started teaching me, to prepare me for the Agoge.”

Nikolaos. The Wolf of Sparta. The pater who had chosen his nation over his family and the children he had raised. Thousands of years later, and her heart still clenched painfully in her ribcage every time she thought about him. Sixteen years. She had waited sixteen years to see him again. Sixteen years of resentment, of nights spent with the spear clutched to her small body, thinking about what she would do to him. How she would kill him, throw him off a cliff and watch him fall, just the way he had done to her.

Sixteen years of training, harder and harder, honing her skills, her strength and her speed. Focusing on brute force, on growing stronger, on being physically imposing and threatening to the point her sheer frame never failed to turn heads and raise eyebrows everywhere she went on Kephallonia.

That way, he wouldn’t be able to lift her off the ground like he had done that night, leaving her dangling in the abyss, holding her by the wrist like she weighed nothing. She hadn’t been fast enough to save Alexios, she hadn’t been strong enough to escape Nikolaos.

Never again.

When the day came, the day she confronted him in Megaris, Kassandra realized all of this had been for nothing. The old man she saw there was but the shell of the proud warrior who had plagued her dreams and fed her fury. He had thrown his helmet at her feet, accepted his fate willingly when she had grabbed him. His throat bobbling and frail under her strong grip. His eyes shining with resignation and guilt.

She had wanted nothing more than to fight, to show how she had become stronger, faster, sharper than him. To show him who she had become; Kassandra, the Eagle Bearer, the misthios who had cheated Atropos’ scissors.

Kassandra had let him live, out of spite, to be forever haunted by the faces of the family he had betrayed.

“I survived the storm,” she said forcing her mind to steer away from those thoughts to focus on the present. “The little egg, too. When I washed up on the shores of Kephallonia, it hatched and there it was; an eaglet screaming for dear life,” a fond smile tugged at her lips. “Since he had survived so much already, I decided to keep him for as long as he would have me.”

“The Eagle Bearer,” Lara muttered. She had wondered where that moniker came from; if Kassandra had tamed one in the wild.

She hummed. “Ikaros hasn’t left my side ever since,” she paused, looking up at the ceiling, thoughtful. “Well, not mine. Hers. You get it,” and sighed. “What I’m trying to say is, this is what happened. How it happened. But no one is interested in the truth, everybody comes up with their own. People said he was a gift from Zeus himself.”

Something halfway between a snort and a scoff came out of her mouth. It hadn’t been the Gods’ design, just Pythagoras’ afterthought about his legacy.

_I sent him to keep an eye on you._

“They even called me a goddess, and I was very much human back then,” she snorted at the absurdity of it, shifting to her side to face the other woman.

Athena herself, Kyra had said when they met that first time. She had brushed it off with a scoff.

“You still are,” Lara said.

It was innocuous, but the statement shook Kassandra to the core. She froze.

It wasn’t that she thought of herself above humans, not like the Isu, or the Cult, or even Pythagoras, who had looked down on them, watching, studying people like he would do simple-minded ants. Even the way he spoke had betrayed his disdain. No, it was the opposite. Kassandra felt removed from civilization by her very nature, and the essence of her mission.

She hadn’t cried often after burying the last of her friends in Greece; in fact, she could count on her fingers the number of times it had happened in the last two thousand years. Most of them related to physical pain, or intense bouts of depression that struck from time to time.

A book made her cry once.

She had been unable to tear her eyes away from it, devouring page after page until her vision blurred and her hands shook. She had dropped it soon afterwards, as if it had burnt her.

Mary Shelley had a way with words. Kassandra had felt the anguish of Frankenstein’s creature on such a visceral level that it still haunted her. Like him, she stood in the limbos between life and death, close enough to humans to yearn for their kinship, yet too far to know that she, as the Keeper of the Staff, would never truly belong to their realm. She had drifted for so long in the in-between, she felt she didn’t know how to live among them anymore.

Kassandra wasn’t made from dead body parts; but she had been brought back to life, just like him. Each time feeling less like her old self, like a part of her had been chipped off. Like time was slowly eating away at her soul. It was a terrifying thought; one that had kept her up at night on many occasions.

_Am I still me?_

And just like the creature, she often found herself craving for companionship. For someone to talk to, confide in. For someone to touch, someone who would understand. Someone she would allow herself to love. Because, if she could love again, then it meant she was still herself. It meant the Staff hadn’t corrupted her like it had Pythagoras, robbing him of his ability to care about people.

Kassandra had waited, hoped and longed to feel that way again for two thousand and five hundred years, and now it was too late. The Heir would come to take over her task, soon. She had given up on so much since taking on her mission, she just assumed her humanity to be one of them.

_You still are._

Kassandra sniffled, pushing the side of her palms on her closed eyes until she could feel the edge of her zygomatic bones.

“Are you alright?” Lara’s concern was palpable in her voice.

She felt the bed move as the archeologist drew closer to her and bolted out. Standing in front of the window. “Dust in my eyes, that’s all,” she took a deep, steadying breath and turned around to look at Lara with what she hoped was a blank expression. “We’re doing this, then?”

She nodded, studying her wordlessly. “Kassandra, are you sure you—”

“I will give you the specifics tomorrow.”

The house had become stifling, like all the air had been sucked out of it. Kassandra couldn’t breathe, needed to get out. She reached for the door, muttering something about feeling too hot and fled.

She ran, ran until she found the small waterfall under which she and Kyra had had a tryst, one night. Tearing her chiton off, Kassandra dived, swimming deeper and deeper until she couldn’t see the moonlight.

She stayed there for as long as her lungs allowed it, leaving the sea to wash her tears and swallow her sobs.

_You still are human._

_You still are._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyra likes a little breath play, ain’t nobody gonna convince me otherwise. It was originally supposed to be Kassandra’s wet dream but then as soon as I started writing it, it just became that angsty thing and well… turns Kyra has a lot of feelings about seeing Kass again. Horny feelings, too. 
> 
> Fire arrows are not to be mixed with incendiary arrows. The former have their own ignition system which makes the fires harder to put out. 
> 
> Okay, so the correlation between Victor Frankenstein’s creature and Keeper Kassandra might be far-fetched, but I mean… why not? The way she’s lived her life ever since she’s taken on Keeper duty echoes the creature’s struggles because they both stand in the sidelines between life and death so… 
> 
> (Also, Mary Shelley sticking it up to male authors and society’s expectations of women by writing a horror book about a man birthing an abomination that transcends the boarders of religion and science is such a Mood™)


	9. Chapitre Neuf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, Mykonos will have fou—no, I’m kidding. This is the last of Mykonos. I apologize in advance because I’ve never written war scenes before, so I hope it lives up to your expectations. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Vocab:
> 
> Gaijin means foreigner which can be seen as a derogatory term in Japanese – and yes, I know Sam is mixed, but that’s not the point. Considering the population’s views on foreigners and hafu – mixed Japanese people, and how she grew up between the States and Europe, I’d wager they’d see her as a foreigner more than anything, which is even more insulting in retrospect. I have friends who are mixed Japanese and I lived there for a bit, so I try to be mindful.  
> In short: don’t flame because I used the word gaijin. Please and thank you. 
> 
> Kykeon is a type of drink made out of wine and grated goat cheese.  
> Pteryges is the leather skirt/shoulder straps Greek warriors used to wear. 
> 
> I have a lot of notes at the bottom. There’s no need to read them, but if you feel confused by the turn of events, head down once you’re done.
> 
> Obviously: Warning for graphic violence here and there.

 

Kassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of the sea, iodine was overpowering in her nostrils, surrounding her, even where she stood, far from the beach. It wasn’t what she was looking for, she disregarded it. Wet dirt, wood, the leather of her armor, they all mingled to hide what she was searching. Inhaling again, she breathed out slowly, analyzing every scent until she found what she was looking for: the distinct whiff of ibex.

Myrrine had taught her to track and kill animals for food, but it was Daphnae had shown her how to really hunt. How to use every tool at her disposal. How her ears and nose were just as useful as her sight.

 _“Close your eyes,”_ she’d said.

_“How am I supposed to track it if I can’t see it?”_

_“Close your eyes, Beast Slayer,”_ Daphnae gave her a pointed look, waiting until Kassandra did as she was told. _“What do you hear?”_

 _“The forest,”_ she deadpanned.

 _“Kassandra,”_ her voice was terse. Then, softer: _“Focus.”_

She sighed lowly, shoulders sagging with her exhale before straightening her posture. _“Birds,”_ she said, a moment later. _“Ikaros.”_

 _“Very well.”_ Daphnae’s smile was evident in her voice. _“What else?”_

 _“A stream,”_ brow creased in a frown. _“The wind and…”_ she wetted her lips, ears perked up. _“Thudding.”_

 _“A goat,”_ the other woman supplied, nodding again.

 _“You can tell that from clomping alone?”_ Kassandra opened her eyes, head titled to the side.

Daphnae’s quirked eyebrow and half smile made her scoff, a bit annoyed by her own lack of skill.

(Truly, it was amazing. Daphnae was amazing.)

After a few seconds of staring, she revealed the truth. _“I can tell it from the smell.”_

 _“I don’t smell anything,”_ Kassandra’s frown deepened. She took another sniff, just to be sure. Nope. Wet and earthy. Forest, but no goat.

_“Because you are not focused.”_

_“I am,”_ she insisted, closing and opening her eyes again.

Daphnae tutted, stepping closer to grab her forearms and shake them. _“Release the tension in your muscles.”_

_“I am no—”_

“ _Kassandra,”_ she warned. _“Just do it,”_ calloused fingertips running on her biceps, up and down, surprisingly soft to the touch. _“Trust me.”_

It had taken days and an incommensurable amount of patience on Daphnae’s part for Kassandra to finally integrate her teachings. Nature, as per the Goddess’ will, provided everything, if one was inclined to listen when she spoke. Daphnae had guided Kassandra through the process, like she had her own sisters. By standing still and closing her eyes, breathing deep and dismantling every scent and sound. The forest yielded its secrets, all it took was to a willing soul.

It was a skill she hadn’t used in a couple of centuries. Now that she was back, though…

Her eyes snapped open when her ears caught it. The scrapping sound of an animal scratching itself against a tree nearby. Kassandra crouched, nocking an arrow as she approached slowly until she could see its antlers pocking from the trunk it was rubbing its head against. Aiming at the ibex, she took a deep breath and held it, muscles taut in her arms when she drew.

A flush of feathers whirred past her cheek, catching the animal in the tender flesh of its throat, just below the lower jaw. It wailed in surprise, staggering against the tree before it collapsed.

“Cheater,” Kassandra turned around with a scowl. She almost had it! “It was mine.”

“You were taking too long,” Kyra smiled, sauntering past her with a self-satisfied smile.

Kassandra’s mouth hung open, looking at her through narrowed eyes. “I was assessing.”

“Slow.”

“Cautious,” she insisted, slinging on her bow.

Kyra's perplexed face and snort said it all. “Of an ibex? I've seen you throw yourself at Athenians’ swords without a second thought,” she chuckled, eyes darting from the animal to her. “Come help instead of pouting.”

It took a lot of inner strength not to make a face. Kassandra approached and hoisted the carcass on her back with a grunt, the cloth Kyra had handed her draped over her shoulders to absorb the blood. “I’m cooking this, tonight. If we get any more of that awful stew your cook insists on making, I’m throwing him to the sharks.”

Kyra gave her yet another one of those long looks. “Hera as my witness, the Eagle Bearer gracing us with a new hidden talent. I don’t remember you cooking anything or complaining last time you were here,” she said with a smile before pausing. “You’ve changed.”

“I’ve traveled,” she countered, walking with her head down. “I’ve learned.”

Kyra nodded silently, musing. “There’s something else, too. You’re different.”

“I’m me, Kyra,” she kept her voice even, but it still sounded gruff. She could blame its edge on the extra weight on her back.

The path they took was a bit uphill, prompting them to silence until they reached the top. “I didn’t say it was bad,” Kyra went on. “Just different.”

Kassandra said nothing. With Lara being nose deep into her bombing experiments, the two of them were spending more time together. Kyra had kept things civil at first, but she slowly warmed up as days went by. It was nice to be able to talk to her again without getting a snide remark or a glare. She had missed this, the easiness of their interactions.

Though, she had those moments when she kept grilling Kassandra about things; the Adrestia’s whereabouts, Ikaros’ absence, the spear she had never seemed to part from which was now nowhere to be seen.

Kassandra had used every deflection technique under the sun. Being defensive would get the archon irrationally annoyed while talking in circles and avoiding sensitive topics only worked so many times until Kyra caught up and steered the conversation back to its original intent. Silence got the best results. And so, silence she used most.

They reached the hideout soon enough, as the shrill voices of children echoed. Kassandra grinned when she saw them run towards her, surrounding the two women.

“You’re so strong, Eagle Bearer!” one of the kids gushed at her. A little blond head with two of her front teeth missing who had taken on following Kassandra everywhere she went in the hideout.

She peered at her, eyes crinkling with her small smile. “Want to see how strong?” she leaned down in a squat, moving the ibex to her left shoulder. “Come on, climb up,” she beckoned, wrapping her free arm around the girl’s small body until she wriggled her way and sat on Kassandra’s other shoulder. 

The other children looked at them in wonder, gasping and whispering among themselves when she stood up effortlessly. The little girl giggled, looking around herself, cheeks flushed with delight as Kassandra walked towards the makeshift pantry to drop the ibex. The others were already running around when she came back, swarming her, begging to be let up. She relented with a theatrical sigh, only to be overwhelmed by their enthusiastic jumping; each of them trying to get a hold of the woman to scale her like a small mountain. 

More high-pitched giggling followed, Kassandra making a show of stomping around, raising her feet high in the air one at a time, arms stretched out for the kids to swing on. Kyra looked at the scene from where she stood, a few feet behind. A fond smile tugged at her lips when Kassandra turned around, small bodies clutched tightly to her back, her legs and her breastplate. “A little help?”

Her shoulders shook with laughter. “The famed misthios defeated by a horde of terrifying children?”

“They _are_ terrifying,” she said, eyes full of mischief.

Kyra grinned before schooling her face into a neutral expression and clearing her throat loudly. “As your Archon, I command you to let the Eagle Bearer breathe,” her voice was firm, though it still held a humorous lilt.

The children caught on the playful tone, but they still did as they were told, jumping off the other woman with the promise to come back later for more games. Kassandra stretched her arms high above her head until the joints gave a satisfying pop. “Thank you,” she breathed out as they walked to the exit.

“I should thank you,” Kyra confessed when they were far from the hideout and not within earshot. “They haven’t smiled or laughed like that in a good while. Not since…” her arm made a wide gesture, towards the sea and the ships surrounding the island.

Kassandra followed with her eyes, looking at the masts that loomed, standing tall like threatening spears. “It won’t be long, now.”

Kyra was frowning when she faced her. Eyes darting around, uncertain. “Are you sure it will work?”

Her demeanor changed then. It wasn’t something Kassandra had often witnessed, if ever. For the sake of appearances, Kyra hadn’t allowed doubts to waver her determination. Not in front of the others. Right now, the archon just looked hesitant, apprehensive. Perhaps even scared. She had worn the same expression, a while ago, just after Podarkes’ death.

Kassandra gave her what she hoped to be a comforting smile. “I know it will.”

She trusted Lara.

Kyra let out a deep sigh, tension ebbing from her shoulders a little. She looked down at their feet for a moment before she made up her mind and stepped forward to grab one of Kassandra’s hands, cradling in it her own. “Thank you,” she squeezed it.

Her head tilted, searching Kyra’s eyes. “Mykonos will get through this,” she smiled again.

The air shifted between them. Kassandra noticed it right away. The pull, the force that had drawn her to Kyra like a moth to a flame. She saw it then, reflected in the other woman’s gaze, how it grew darker, hungrier as her breathing deepened. Kassandra bit the inside of her cheek, eyes darting to her lips then back up. Kyra noticed, stepping even closer, mouth slightly agape, one hand on Kassandra’s breastplate above her beating heart, the other crawling to wrap around her neck. They were in a daze; a trance that irrevocably pushed them to one another. Kassandra hadn’t felt that way in so, so, long. Part of her longed to give in while the other was finding it marginally more difficult to see why not.

 _Just this once_.

It was Gaia’s rumbling that broke the spell.

They both jumped out, jolted back to the present, confused and disoriented.

“What was that?” Kyra squinted up at the blazing blue of the sky where birds had taken flight. “Thunder?”

Kassandra blinked, trying to gather her thoughts and process what had happened. “No.” it had come from underneath them… _Lara_. “Maláka!”

She dashed towards the empty cave they had commissioned for the archeologist, Kyra close behind. Kassandra had chosen it especially because it was far enough from the hideouts to avoid a general cave in if something were to happen.

They jumped across trunks and streams, scaring every animal within their vicinity. The distinct smell of gunpowder assaulted her nostrils, black smoke coming out of the main entrance that looked on the verge of collapse. Two large rocks fell from the top before the ground started shaking again.

“Lara!” she yelled, ready to run inside. Kyra dragged her backward with a harsh tug just as another, bigger rock fell where Kassandra had been only a second ago, collapsing the whole cave along with it. Clouds of dust rose, stifling and thick. “Lara!” eyes narrowed in a squint, shawl over her mouth, Kassandra coughed, her throat constricted with distress and burnt by dirt. She turned around. “Fetch the healer, go!”

Kyra nodded briskly, already taking a step in the opposite direction when the sound of clinking made her come to a halt. She looked back to see Kassandra moving the rocks, her movements growing frantic as she both cursed and grunted under their weight.

“Kassandra, wait.”

She pivoted around with a rock in her arms, snarling. “I told you to—”

“Listen,” Kyra cut her off, prompting her to stop.

The clinking became louder, then turned into scraping. A small part of the cave’s top collapsed inward before a booted leg popped out. Lara’s head emerged a moment later, axe in hand, gasping for air when she wriggled her way out of the ruins. She came out, black as coal, rolling down the mountain of rubble to sprawl on the grass. Chest heaving, covered in soot, except for the sparkling brown of her eyes and the bright white of the grin tugging at her lips when she lifted herself up and noticed Kyra and Kassandra’s stunned faces.  

“It worked!” she half spoke, half screamed at the two frozen figures before turning around to assess the damage. Her smile faltering at the sight. “Sorry about that.”

Kassandra was still gaping at her, feeling equally angry at Lara’s recklessness and overwhelmed by relief. She had _told_ her to be careful while manipulating the ingredients. A part of her wanted nothing but to slap the archeologist silly, the other was just happy that she was still breathing.

“Are you okay?” Kyra’s eyes were still bulging out, face set in the same rictus of surprise as Kassandra’s.

Lara’s brow furrowed. “I can’t hear you,” she motioned to her ears. “Ringing.”

“Are you okay?” Kassandra repeated, switching to English and mouthing the words several times. She ran her eyes over Lara, checking for any apparent injury, but it was hard to see, considering she was covered in soot. “Okay?” she made the sign with her hand.

“Oh,” the young woman was still smiling. “Yes!” she yelled back, gesturing at the entrance that was now closed shut by a heap of rocks. “I made it. It worked!”

“I noticed,” Kassandra mumbled. She waved her hand at Lara’s questioning look. “Nothing,” she mouthed.

The archeologist coughed, leaning forward on her knees and spat. “I need to clean that up,” she turned back, staggering awkwardly towards the cave.

Seriously?

Kassandra’s eyebrows quirked in surprise. She opened her mouth, ready to speak and closed it, clasping Lara’s shoulder with a firm hand to stop her. “Absolutely not,” she said slowly, shaking her head at Lara’s protestations while motioning towards Kyra. “Go with her.”

“Bu—”

Kassandra raised her fingers, stopping her halfway. “You go with her,” she repeated with a clipped tone, leaving no room for discussion. “Now,” she pivoted Lara and slowly pushed her towards Kyra, switching back to Greek. “Get her to the healer, tell him to check her head.”

The archon took Lara by the arm to steady her and nodded. “Come on,” she prompted.

Kassandra turned back towards the rubble and sighed. She had a lot of cleaning ahead.

* * *

 

Every nerve of her body screamed when she entered the hot water but the sheer relief it brought to her arching limbs was worth a few minutes of discomfort. It did not compare with the hot spring of Kagoshima where Sam had dragged her to before they departed on the Endurance to find Yamatai, but it was still something.

A smile tugged at her lips at the thought. So young and carefree. Freshly graduated and ready to eat the world. Roth had generously allowed them two days of what he'd called 'recess' before they left. Sam had made the most of it, floating from bar to bar for all-you-can-drink sessions with inebriated salarymen who tried to impress them with their grasp of English. She would let them struggle, chugging shot after shot while Lara gingerly sipped at her watered down cocktail, both women chatting away until their time was up and the men would pay for their drinks, all starry-eyed at the prospect of finishing the night in a love hotel with not one, but two _gaijin_.

“Thank you for the freebie!” Sam would say, a saccharine smile on her lips, using the over-the-top polite Japanese speech she only utilized with her dad. Adding a little bow to the injury before leaving them on the spot, laughing all the way back to their Airbnb or to the next bar. Rinse and repeat.

It had worked every time.

Greek baths were different, and Sam’s absence made her heart clench painfully in her ribcage. It was easy to ignore most of the time with everything happening, with the novelty, the wonder of it all. But those quiet moments alone with her thoughts were like a twisting knife in her chest. What was happening out there? Was Sam alright? Jonah? What about Winston? Were they alive? Did they notice her missing?

She shook her head, forcing her mind to steer away from the rabbit hole of worry eating at her.

Lara had scrubbed the grime off her body and hair with an ice-cold shower, but the warm and clear bath water took on a faintly grey color once she stepped in, despite her best efforts. She rubbed her face, guilt and steam flushing her cheeks.

The healer hadn’t been of much help, except in confirming she had a small concussion which explained the ringing and dizziness when she walked. He had given her some eucalyptus ointment to spread on her chest for the coughing and 'a week of rest' that she would take none of. The noise in her ears had subdued to a low static, but it was still annoyingly disabling. She didn’t notice Kyra enter the water until the rippling warned her.

Lara startled, sinking down to neck level. Kyra, standing waist deep in the bath, gave her a look but said nothing.

“Feeling better?” she asked once settled, sitting with half of her chest exposed to the evening breeze. The archeologist nodded. “Your eyebrow…”

“Oh,” Lara’s fingers went up instinctively, probing at the tender scar that had been reopened. “It’s nothing. Was there before.”

“Really? How?”

A football game gone wrong at the Nine Bells. Insults flying along with fists and beer bottles. Everything had been somewhat under control until it wasn’t anymore. A stray bottle had smacked her straight in the face, it was a miracle it had only cut her brow open and Lara hadn’t lost an eye. She ended up spending the end of the night at the Emergency Room with a bloody gauze and remorseful patrons dissolving in apologies. Lara had walked in the pub two days later to find a bouquet of flowers and several boxes of Jaffa cakes waiting by her locker.

“A brawl in a… tavern,” she said with a sheepish smile. Kassandra had told her about how people liked to swap battle stories here and share the tales behind their scars. Lara didn’t usually take part in it, but it was considered impolite not to answer when asked directly. At least, she hadn’t grilled her about the faint white lines on her cheek.

Kyra snorted loudly. “I have a really hard time believing you would get into a brawl.”

It was meant in jest, and so Lara’s smile grew. “Unwilling participant.”

“That’s more like it,” she nodded, sinking in the bath and resting her head on the edge. They said nothing for a while, enjoying the warm water and slight breeze of the night. “You seem to have led an interesting life,” Kyra was looking at her when Lara turned, a confused frown on her face. “Your scars,” she went on. “They tell a story, yet you hide them,” her eyes drifted to the sky above before refocusing on the young woman. “You shouldn’t be ashamed.”

Lara’s muscles stiffened instantly, as if a bucket of cold water had been dropped on her. She opened her mouth, ready to retort before she realized she didn’t know what to say. “I don’t…”

_I don’t like how they make me feel._

The issue was deeper than simple self-consciousness. It wasn’t about looks. Those scars were a testament of what she had done. A permanent reminder etched into her skin of what she’d turned into. Who she had needed to become in order to survive. She took no pride in them. There was no satisfaction in knowing she had killed all those men on Yamatai, in Siberia, and in Peru. Knowing she had hunted them even after they cowered and fled at her sight.

_I’m coming for you all!_

“What if I don’t like the story behind them?” Lara blurted before she could stop herself.

Kyra’s eyes were still upward. “Then, don’t let it define you,” she muttered. “They are a part of you, they always will,” there was an odd shine to her eyes when they met Lara’s. Like she wasn’t really talking to her. “Only you get to decide what to make of them.”

Her frown deepened. Kyra had always kept her distance with her. This was new. “Why are you telling me this?” she voiced her thoughts.

There was a small smile on her face. “I misjudged you,” the admission was easy enough. “Kassandra told me about what you did, today.”

_Shit._

“Oh.”

How much did she know? Had Kassandra lost her mind?

“How you risked your life for my people. Most of them you don’t even know,” the archeologist sighed in relief. Hopefully she'd kept things vague. “I didn’t believe you at first.”

“You had no reason to,” Lara replied. Looking back, Kyra had been right. She was a foreigner, she could have been a spy, or a sword hired to kill her and snuff out the fight with minimal bloodshed.

“I didn’t _want_ to,” she stressed. “I was…” Kyra trailed off, breathing out the word, “Angry. Confused. Seeing her again after all this time…”

Curiosity got the best of her, Lara couldn’t help it. “When did you see her last?”

“Two years ago,” she said. “Kassandra left after Talethas’ death. We managed to hide it from Spartans for a long time. Until one of their spies spoke.”

Lara nodded. “You loved him. Your anger is natural.”

Kyra gave her a wry smile, looking like she wanted to say something, then shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, shifting the discussion back to its original topic. “I know it isn’t much, but I’m grateful for your help,” breathing out a sigh. “Whatever happens.”

She nodded again. Her pessimistic and skeptical nature tended to get the best of her, though she fought it this time, forcing positivity into her words that echoed Kassandra’s earlier statement:

“We’ll get through this.”

-0-

 

It happened on a cloudy night, two days later.

First came the whispers. Bodies groggy by sleep, becoming more and more alert as they woke up. Silence hung like a shroud, heavy and tense. Warriors, archers, civilians, each of them following the instructions that had been given the day prior.

Hide the children in the far end of every cave, with those who couldn’t fight.

Gear up, the clinking of metal and rubbing of leather almost subdued by the night.

Archers took position in every high point, every tree that overlooked the ships. They hid in crates on the roofs of the houses by the port, some so close that they could smell the wine and sweat wafting over from the soldiers sleeping soundly a few meters away.

Kassandra was there, reviewing the troops with Praxos one last time. Kyra was on the top of Artemis’ temple, ready to light the signal, and Lara rounded the cliffs to make sure all the archers had what they needed.

Three fire arrows each, the rest incendiary. Only one of them was explosive. They had to make every shot count. They would aim at the amphoras of wine, oil, the sails and any fabric that looked like it could light up, burn the bridges between the ships. The explosive arrow would come in last.

This could work.

It _had_ to.

Lara took position by the edge of a cliff overlooking two Spartan ships. She turned around, the light of her lamp blinking towards the port.

 _Ready_.

Kassandra lighted the end of her staff with a brisk clink of her knife, waving a cloth in front of it before snuffing the flame out.

_Ready._

Kyra stared at the flashes of light flickering in and out of existence.

_Ready._

She gave the signal.

 

Selene witnessed as Hephaistos and Ares' fury descended upon Spartans.

Arrows whirred like birds in rapid flight, alighting wooden planks and masts, setting everything ablaze. The soldiers’ cries and yelps of surprise soon turned into agonizing wails. The rising smoke, black as night, obscured their vision, crept into their lungs, surrounded them like cages, thick and choking.

There was no escape, arrows wouldn’t stop raining; they burnt through their shields, their armors, chitons to sear their skin. Human torches ran blindly, stumbling, trying to find solace in the sea, flinging themselves overboard.

Screams and groans mingled with the sobs of grown men meeting their end. The crackling of the fire did not tune out Gaia's tremors when the first explosion rumbled. And the second, third, each and every ship spurting splinters of wood like a thousand knives when it disintegrated, killing even the few who had managed to jump into the water.

Delos watched in awed horror as Mykonos stood like a Titan in the middle of a ring of fire fed by the howls of death. People swarmed the port, climbing on ladders and roofs to get a better look. The heat was scalding, even from afar. Fire split the sky open, painting it in shades of orange and purple blue, turning Spartan red into scorched black. The smell of carbonized flesh mingled with burnt wood and the coppery tinge of melted metal floated over, making even the strongest stomachs hurl and gag.

“Hades have mercy on their souls,” an old woman gasped, watching as the raging blaze swallowed the sea. “What have they done to unleash Hephaistos’ wrath upon them?”

The fires burnt strong even after sunrise, leaving the sky a cloudy grey; both islands plunged in the eerie and frozen silence that always followed catastrophes.

* * *

 

“You aren’t going,” Kassandra’s voice filled the house, strong and firm. “This isn’t up for discussion.”

Lara’s glower did not settle, if anything the patronizing tone had fed it ten folds. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

They had been running in circles for the better part of the hour. After meeting with everyone in the main hideout to discuss the next phase of their plan and tend to the few wounded, Kassandra had suggested they rest, prompted by Kyra’s subtle nod.

Lara should have known the moment she walked them to the house instead of staying with everybody. Kassandra had sat her down to tell her in the breeziest and most nonchalant way that she was not going to fight. That she was to stay in the main cave with the children to defend it with a few other archers and warriors, in case the Athenians managed to slither past the barricades during the battle.

She was benching Lara for no reason. That wouldn’t do.

“Because there was no deal. You aren’t going and this is it.” Kassandra didn’t let go and she wasn’t going to either.

“I—”

“You have a concussion,” she cut her off. “Or did you forget about that?” rising to her feet to tower over the archeologist like she always did when she was getting annoyed and wanted to intimidate her.

That was such a low blow.

Lara was _fine_ , for God’s sake! She had run around with a gaping hole in her side, waddling through mud and filth on next to no sleep for a bloody _week_. A bump in the head was nothing in comparison. What was Kassandra’s problem?

“Stop pampering me,” Lara stood her ground, crossing her arms, voice rising in frustration. “I know how to fight, or did _you_ forget about that?”

Her eyes softened then, before darting away from the other woman. “On a battlefield? No, you don’t.” Kassandra sighed, turning around, rounding the table as she spoke. “It’s… it’s not like anything you’ve seen before. It doesn’t compare to your books,” she blinked, letting genuine concern fill her words. “You don’t have to see this,” breathing again. “I won’t let you.”

 _Not if I can help it._ She let silence fill in the blanks for the archeologist.

It wasn’t about the fighting, but its aftermath. Her unspoken fears. The nightmares.

 _“We will deal with it. Whatever you need_.”

The words she had spoken, the tacit promise she had made only a few days ago.

Dealing with it, even if it meant butting heads with her. Lara blinked slowly when it clicked, conflicted by the mess of emotions in her head. The overwhelming vulnerability mixed with helplessness battling with gratitude and sheer frustration. A jarring clutter of feelings that confused her to no end.

She wasn’t broken. She was okay. She would power through this like she had everything else. She could do it.

Right?

“Kassandra,” she looked up at her, meeting hazel eyes shining with worry. “I’m not…”

“Lara, please. I will feel better knowing the children are safe with you. Everybody will,” she held her gaze, but her posture had none of its earlier stiffness. “You’ve done plenty, already,” she smiled, small and playful. “I’ve heard some of the men call you Hephaistos’ daughter. I told you it would happen. They admire you.”

No words were spoken for a good while after that. Kassandra kept staring at the table, lost in her head while the young woman tried to make sense of her swirling thoughts.

She was not a damsel in distress.

But she didn’t need to be tough all the time, either.

Hiding behind a façade only worked so many times before it cracked. It was okay to ask for help. It was okay to accept it.

It was okay.

Lara closed her eyes, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. “Alright,” she finally said, shoulders sagging unconsciously. Why did it feel like she was admitting defeat?

“Thank you.” Kassandra bowed her head. A yawn sneaked its way out of her, and she frowned at the bed while rubbing her face. The weariness of the day had caught up with her. “Are you tired?” Lara shook her head. “I think I will…” she gave a small tilt towards it.

She nodded, sitting back down on the chair and opened her journal. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

There was ruffling behind her when Kassandra removed her armor and put down her weapons in silence. She paid it no mind, squinting at the empty page of her journal like the words were going to appear by sheer will.

“Lara,” Kassandra called once she lay on the cot, making the other woman shift around to face her. “Don’t…” her voice was meek, tinted with uncertainty. “Don’t be upset, please.”

No word between them, only a long bout of silence as they stared at each other. “I’m not,” Lara replied eventually, giving her a reassuring smile.

She was a lot of things right now but upset wasn’t one of them. The initial irritation had faded down and turned into something she couldn’t identify quite yet.

“Okay,” Kassandra said, eyes focused on her like a hawk, even when Lara turned back. Just to make sure.

The archeologist sighed loudly, took the cloth that was on the table, rolled it into ball and threw it at Kassandra, smacking her straight in the face before she had time to react. “Stop staring and sleep,” she chastised, a smirk on her face.

...

Foolish as they were, the Athenians didn’t stand a chance when they attacked, one day after Spartan ships were decimated and their soldiers reduced to ash.

Some said the Archon made a pact with Hades and opened the doors of Tartaros, unleashing the demons and harpies on them.

Some said the rebels were guided by Ares and led by Ajax the Great himself, in the form of an undead slave wearing a mask and wielding a blazing staff.

Some said the witch that had summoned Hephaistos’ flames had concocted a potion that made the warriors turn into bloodthirsty beasts, immune to pain, snarling and growling like rabid wolves as they charged.

Some said they had seen the beasts tear through the chests of soldiers to feed on their beating hearts right on the battlefield, that Athenian blood flooded the city up to their knees for days. That they bathed in it.

Some said the once pristine beaches turned bright red, littered with the charred corpses of the poor souls who had dared to challenge the daughter of a God.

Some said the sharks feasted upon the shores for weeks on end.

The words carried long and far, whispered by the few who, preferring dishonor over death, had dared to desert before the slaughter, and the ones who had watched the macabre spectacle from Mykonos’ sister island.

-0-

 

Calling in a banquet a day before Kassandra and Lara decided to depart might have been over the top, but Kyra wouldn’t take no for an answer.

They had _won_. Sparta and Athens would think twice before trying to invade again. The Silver Islands were free. 

They deserved to be sent off with the honors granted to the most eminent warriors.

The heaviness of the weeks following the battles had subdued as Mykonos slowly regained its people and the wounds of war healed. They started trading again, fresh fruits filled the stalls at the market, the tavern overflowed with wine, beer and _kykeon_ , the music was back from dusk till dawn. Mykonos screamed and laughed and sang again, surrounded by a halo of moonlight reflected by the sea.

_Life._

Night was lively with cheers. Clinking cups were filled to the brim, perfectly seared boars with garlic were served, though Kassandra refused to take a bite, despite having spent the better part of the day cooking them.

“Filthy animals,” she grumbled around a mouthful of vegetables at Lara’s questioning look. “I don’t eat boar.”

“You’re strange.”

“Says the girl who stuffed my cupboards with over-sweetened jelly paste cakes,” she waved her cup like a reprimanding finger. “Don’t think I didn’t see it. How can you function on those alone?”

Maybe it was the wine, or Kassandra’s disgusted grimace but Lara found herself grinning big and shiny. “Jaffa cakes,” she corrected before adding, “and I’m British,” like that would explain everything.

Kassandra snorted, nudging her shoulder playfully. “Makes sense. Your people wouldn’t recognize good food if it slapped them in the face,” deep belly laughs rippled through her when the archeologist pinched her forearm, looking falsely offended.

Kyra watched their quiet exchange from where she sat on the other side of the table, two seats down. They were using that language again, the one only they understood. The pang in her chest came back to haunt her with vengeance at their sight. An uncomfortable tightness that refused to leave. Jealousy was the worst of mistresses. She had often found herself envying the women’s easy proximity, their understanding over the weeks. But it never stung like it did now. For some reason, tonight made her acutely aware of three things:

Kyra used to have that with Kassandra.

Kyra used to have everything.

And she lost it all.

Now, all she could do was witness helplessly as someone else monopolized her attention, her smile and made her laugh. Oblivious malákes that they were. Not even lovers and yet…

Kassandra had to be aware of it. She had to. She wasn’t an idiot.

Was it a scheme? A ruse to rub it in Kyra’s face? Showing her what she could have had, had she made a decision? Had she listened to Kassandra’s pleas instead of sending her away?

Why be so cruel?

Why come back to haunt her. Save her, only to bring her down even further?

Knuckles whitened, Kyra almost broke her cup, feeling the clay chip away in her palm. She put it down gingerly, eyes already blurred by emotion and stood up without a word to slip out of the gathering undetected.

The evening wind was wiping at the tears that refused to stop when she stood by the cliff where Podarkes’ pyre had been. Selene watching over like she had that night.

“I don’t like seeing you there,” Kassandra’s voice sounded behind her, a few moments later. “You know it,” soft and gentle.  

It hurt.

“I won’t jump, misthios,” she tried to joke, but it came out dry, quivering and stifled. She sat by the edge to prove her point. “Rest assured.”

Footsteps that had been so loud and heavy years ago now moved without so much as a flutter until the other woman settled next to her. Another ruse, she realized. Kassandra was loud only when she wanted you to hear her. 

They stared ahead at the sea reflecting the black and white dotted night sky. Shades of white and blue waving back and forth, whispering silently and lapping at the beach underneath them. Kassandra got lost in it for a while, reminiscing.

“You said you could settle down, one day,” Kyra broke the peaceful quiet.

“I remember.”

“But you never did,” she chanced a look at her profile. Kassandra had her head down, eyes focused on the lappets of her _pteryges._

“No,” it came out in a breath, the word thick with definite finality.

“Why?” she asked, blinking rapidly again. “Why... not me?”

Kassandra lifted her head, looking at the sea in silence before she said, “You deserved better.”

Kyra scoffed at the absurdity of her statement. People didn’t _deserve_ better. They got what they desired.

“What if it’s you I want, Kassandra?” she turned her body to the side, facing the other woman. Her hand traveled, fingers brushing against her cheek, her lips. “What difference does it make then?”

They could have learned. They could have learned to love one another. She would have taught Kassandra. Kyra would have waited.

They could have. Had Kassandra permitted it. 

She allowed herself to feel the caress, to lean into her touch, if only for a moment. Kassandra cradled Kyra’s hand in hers, kissing her open palm before holding her gaze, her own filled with so much sorrow, it sucked the breath out of the woman’s chest. “It’s too late for me, Kyra.”

She felt the words ripple through her and squeeze at her heart so painfully that only a stifled hiccup came out. Kyra’s mouth hung open in a silent gasp, blinking again, eyes began to shine with unshed tears, the same tears she could see in those clear hazel eyes, aching with resignation.

“H-How?”

Kassandra shook her head, swallowing thickly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But…”

“Shh,” calloused fingers moved over her lips, silencing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, bringing their faces close to press a kiss to her forehead. “For everything.”

Kyra hugged her then, as hard as she could. A crushing embrace that held everything she wanted to say, everything she had locked in the confines of her mind for years, out of pride, out of resentment, out of that stupid stubbornness that had made her lose her only chance at happiness. Her arms wrapped around Kassandra like a shield, pressing into her. Kyra didn’t let go, felt every tremor of this force of nature who never wavered and always stood strong. The gentle giant with a heart of clay that the Gods took a twisted delight in toying with.  

“Does she know?” Kyra sniffled, wiping the woman’s tears with her thumb once they pulled away.

Kassandra leaned in her touch again, closing her eyes for a second and shook her head. “No.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she breathed shakily. “I promise.”

Kassandra nodded, bringing Kyra’s hand to her lips again. “Thank you,” sighing in her lips. “There’s something I wanted to ask you, a favor…”

“Anything.”

Her eyes took on an edge, “I will return, and I need you to keep someone safe,” a quiet determination when she spoke. “I need to keep her safe from the people hunting me and my family.”

_Phoibe._

Zeus so help her, Kassandra wouldn’t let her die. Not again. Consequences be damned.

“I need to know that she is safe,” looking straight into Kyra’s eyes. “Do you understand?”

She held her fiery gaze with her own, nodding. “I swear it on my life.”

Kyra let Kassandra walk to her house after that. She watched her leave, back hunched by the weight time and sorrow. The Fates were cruel to the Eagle Bearer, yet she remained stubbornly resilient.

“May you find peace,” Kyra whispered, willing the wind to carry her prayer to Mount Olympus.

* * *

 

 

Kassandra paced around on the deck of the Adrestia like a lioness in a cage.

She had done everything.

Everything.

From raining arrows on bandit camps, to stealing a few nation treasures, taking on more jobs in the last three years than she ever did since leaving Kephallonia, selling every single armor part she did not need anymore. Penelope’s shroud had also ended up at the blacksmith, against Odessa’s protestations – though Kassandra didn't part from Nikolaos’ helmet.

She had even attacked ships despite Barnabas’ initial concerns (she still waited until they could hire a carpenter for the Adrestia, just in case). Kassandra had sunk the few that had dared to cross her path in the past months, bleeding them dry of drachmae.

It wasn’t enough.

Fighting in the Arena had been her last resort. She had risked her life every night like some mindless beast entertaining rich patrons. The endeavors had been risky, to say the least. There were always new opponents, stronger, or with better gear. Kassandra had managed for a while, using her strength just as much as her wit to win, but the last fight had left her with a (temporary) limp and a weakened strong arm. She’d had to call it quits for now, until she fully recovered.

And it still wasn’t _enough._

She growled. Damn Xenia all the way to Tartaros. May she choke on those drachmae and sink into the Styx. Perhaps Kassandra should have taken Daphnae on her offer. Overthrowing the self-proclaimed pirate queen did not seem like such a bad idea anymore. The thought almost managed to get a smile out of her before reality came back to slap her on the face with its icy claws. Her smile fell.

Daphnae.

The huntress would kill her if she set foot on Chios again, even after all those years. Kassandra had heard of a high-ranked Cultist there, a snake hiding among the Daughters of Artemis. She didn’t know who it was yet, and she wouldn’t risk sneaking in a camp without more clues. She had to wait.

If that Cultist so much as sneezed in Daphnae’s direction…

 _No_ , she shook her head. Daphnae was safe. She was their leader. They would protect her. They wouldn’t let anything happen.

Right?

She went rigid at Barnabas’ tap on her back, reigning in the instinct that screamed for her to punch him in the nose.

“Keep frowning like that and you will be just as ugly as me,” he boomed, eyes full of mirth as he pointed at his wrinkled face.

Kassandra puffed. “Not a chance,” laughing along with him until her concerns came running back to taunt her. Her lips set in a thin line. “I need more drachmae, Barnabas.”

The man hummed. He knew all too well, he had seen her grow more and more frustrated lately, had tended to her wounds after every battle in the arena. He had even sold a few belongings of his own and sneakily filled the box in her quarters.

But today was a good day. The Gods were finally smiling on them.

“About that,” he said, fetching a scroll in his chiton, “I had a stroll in the market this morning before we left and I came across this,” and handed it to her.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “We’re not helping anyone move, Barnabas. I need actual work. Something that pays.”

The remark made him tsk. Such a suborn thing she was. “It _is_ work. And a rich Spartan general is paying.”

Unlike citizens that called in her services, generals usually paid well. Extra drachmae meant extra risks and a bigger probability of meeting Charon than hearing the clinking of gold in her pouch, though.

Was it worth it?

She finally grabbed the scroll from his hand, running her eyes across the words as her face gradually lighted up.

Definitely worth it.

That was a _lot_ of drachmae.

Enough to pay Xenia, her own crew and buy back all the armor sets she had sold. Even Penelope’s shroud, so Odessa might stop giving her the stink eye for defiling her family.

Barnabas gave her a knowing look. “What do you say, Commander?”

Kassandra _grinned_. “I say we find the one they call Hephaistos’ daughter and bring her justice.”

Ikaros shrieked above them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EagleBearer!Kass hunting Keeper!Kass and Lara for drachmae, what could go wrong?
> 
> (everything.)
> 
> Also I’m sorry for making fun of Britain’s legendary cooking skills. I love you guys, really.
> 
> Behold the wall of notes. No need to read if you're not interested: 
> 
> Yes, you can smell animals in the forest. Especially game, their scent is powerful. And they make a lot of noise, contrary to popular belief. 
> 
> A bit of perspective change for the battle scenes because I didn’t want to romanticize them, it’s not a good guy versus bad guy kind of thing. It’s war and it’s ugly, it’s painful and it sucks. Hence the emphasis on soldiers dying/people witnessing instead of Mykonos winning. 
> 
> Kagoshima is in the southern part of Japan, near Sakurajima, aka one of the most active volcanos of Japan. It always spurts smoke and ash, beautiful sight if you ever want to visit. I chose it because it’s the closest to where the dragon triangle is. I’d assume Roth to try and get as close as possible before sailing.
> 
> Lara’s face scars: First concepts art of Lara in 2013 depicts her having a scar that crosses her eyebrow. It disappears in the following games (with her 3 gay earrings. WHY). Anyway she has this scar and another one crossing her cheek from that time Vladimir struck her in the face (which the devs kept!).
> 
> Thank Ubisoft for pulling that ship flamethrower in the Legacy DLC out of their ass. That thing wasn't invented until around 600 AD.
> 
> Kassandra took years to get the 15K Xenia asked. Just assume she did a lot of side questing in the meantime :)


	10. Chapitre Dix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:
> 
> A big ass thank you to all of you who have kudo-ed, followed, commented on this. I seriously can’t believe it. Also 3k+ hits?? I’m awestruck. Thank you so, so much! Your speculations are very interesting to read :) keep them coming!
> 
> Two: my phone tried to do a leap of faith and didn’t survive (RIP Vlad, you will be missed). I have lost all my small notes about the story/keyscenes and little tidbits I put there for future use. It’s gone, so I am working from (my failed) memory from now on and putting everything in dropbox in case my future new phone decides it wants to do seppuku. Fear not, the plotfile is still intact, I know where I’m going with this.
> 
> Three: this chapter deals with some pretty heavy themes. I didn’t get into details because nobody needs that, but be careful. 
> 
> Jahannam is the Arabic for Hell. More specifically the last gate of hell, aka the worst in Islam.

 

 

Admittedly, Kassandra was good at many things and she took pride in it. There was no reason to downplay her own accomplishments. Downplaying was for the weak and she was not weak.

One of the things she was most proud of was her fighting skills. Spear of Leonidas aside, one didn’t spend her childhood in Sparta, receive training from both a renowned general and the daughter of a warrior King without catching on a few things.

Legacy and all that.  

With the fighting came her ability to assess a situation quickly and know when it was time to _run_. This wasn’t the Spartan way by any means, but then again, Kassandra hadn’t been Spartan since the Kingdom decided she and her brother would be better suited down a mountain. 

Malákes elders and corrupted Pythia.

With the assessing came another perk: tracking.

Kassandra was the best at finding people. Especially when a hefty sum of drachmae awaited at the end. Talk about good motivation.

She had caught up on her target (s) after embarking in a silent chase that had taken a little more than two months. What made her even prouder was that she was apparently the first one. No other mercenaries had been around. Oh, she had seen them searching frantically, asking everybody and their mother about the whereabouts of a certain misthios who could summon flames by sheer will, and her slave; a blood-foaming, rabid human-shaped beast coming straight from the Underworld.

(She didn’t buy the last part, though she was… intrigued.)

Kassandra knew that asking around would lead her nowhere. If that daughter of Hephaistos had managed to slip through the cracks for as long as she had, it was because she steered away from big cities, or she was unremarkable enough not to draw attention in public.

Byway roads, the odd depleted village, forests. That’s where she hid and that’s where Kassandra focused her efforts. It took some time, but she managed to follow her back to Phokis, the dense vegetation providing the perfect cover for small camps.

Kassandra stood on the rooftop of Artemis’ temple, old wood creaking and groaning under her sandals. Being here again made her tense, heart swelling and head inadvertently swimming with memories of a bygone time. She missed the laughter, fond looks and kisses. The silences that spoke volume, the peaceful quiet when Daphnae prayed and Kassandra could swear the wind blew her answers.

Was she doing okay in Chios? Did she ever think of her?

A long shriek above her head and Kassandra squinted up at the sky. “I know, Ikaros,” she breathed tiredly before closing her eyes to allow herself into his mind.

 _Show me_.

There was a split second of weightlessness, feeling adrift and cold, a gust of wind carrying her before she could see from above. Trees a vibrant green, yellow and red. Kassandra steered the eagle around, drawing wide circles until something caught her attention in his peripheral vision. She prompted him gently towards it, sensing a slight bit of resistance on his part.

Kassandra frowned.

 _Show me_ , her mind reiterated. _Turn_.

Ikaros was a cranky thing who wouldn’t hesitate to sink his talons deep in her fingers and/or her arm when he had a bad day, but the eagle had never ignored her requests (not commands. Never commands) like this before. She tried again. After a few moments of mental back and forth, he finally relented, though Kassandra could feel the tinge of reluctance tugging on their bond.

White smoke rose from the eastern part of the forest, on the cliff where she had fought her first legendary beast.

_(“Here, I killed your piggy for you.”)_

The smile was rueful on her lips. She took a deep breath, prompted by Ikaros’ gentle probing.

 _I’m fine_.

The eagle had a keen eye for deceit. It was quite obvious that he didn’t believe it. He knew her, and their connection allowed for nothing but complete openness. But, at the end of the day, even if she spent the majority of her time talking to him, Ikaros couldn’t answer. Maybe rub his head against her cheek when she was _really_ feeling down but that was the extent of it.

His presence was always a comfort, though. She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Kassandra steered him towards the smoke before zeroing in on it. A camp. A bow, a few supplies neatly put together and sleeping rugs. Two of them.

Ikaros circled the camp again when she asked him to. A hooded figure was walking towards it. A woman, from the look of it. Lithe, lean, probably young. She saw her remove the hood just as Ikaros severed their connection.

Kassandra felt herself be sucked into her body, almost forced back in. The experience so abrupt and unexpected that it made her dizzy. She frowned, looking up at the sky through squinted eyes. Ikaros must be in one of those moods again; he refused her access when she tried again and flew back, landing with small hops on the roof.

“What is it with you, today?” he cocked his head at her, squawked and then flew off, leaving her utterly confused.

Kassandra shrugged and peered down at the bush before letting herself fall. The landing was swift but the slight tautness in her shoulder and her stiff ankle were a sharp reminder that she hadn’t fully recovered and needed to be careful. It would be best to avoid close combat; she didn’t know her opponent.

* * *

 

With Lara in charge of camp maintenance, it fell on the other woman to find them food. Phokis was full of boars, bears and goats at this time of the year. Yet Kassandra wanted none of it and had decided to assemble a makeshift net, a rod and go fishing instead. It wasn’t going half as bad, if she said so herself. Another fish and she would call it a day.

Her head swam with memories. Myrrine had told her stories about how, before the war, Leonidas would sometimes wake her and Pleistarkhos up at the crack of dawn. Limbs sluggish and eyes still caked with sleep, the siblings would follow him outside of the house, they traveled on foot for a few hours until they reached the Eurotas. Leonidas would always find a small boat by the shore and row down the river to that one spot he knew was overflowing with fish. Father, son and daughter would come back at sunset, all flushed cheeks and sunbathed skin with a bucket full of their catch.

Nikolaos never brought her fishing, but her mater did. She recalled those times fondly, a memory she had kept close to her heart, even alone in Kephallonia. They kept her going, her heart swelling with the hope that she would find Myrrine, one day.

_I should have taught Phoibe. I should have spent more time with her._

There were many things she should have done but something always came in the way. When it wasn't Markos sending her on yet another errant, forcing her to take part in an already failed scheme to trick the rare travelers who wandered to this godsforsaken island, it was Anaïs and the flutters of young love.

_Anaïs._

The girl who had saved her from a certain death, the only one who had stood up for Kassandra, facing bullies who ambushed her and almost beat her to a pulp for daring to defend Ikaros. The only person who had befriended the street rat that she used to be.

The one who had left her behind without so much as a word, on a brisk morning not long after they had lost their virginity to each other.

Maybe she should look for Anaïs now that she was back, for old times sake. Was she still alive?

Kassandra was lost in her own mind, revisiting old memories. She ignored the first few squawks above her; just birds taking flight. However, the third one caught her attention. It was a drawn screech, followed by two shorter shrieks. She startled when she recognized the signal. 

A warning.

Ikaros.

Kassandra looked up, just in time to see the eagle circle her. She felt herself being pushed upward, forced out of her body and into his head.

_What the…_

She could see herself, sitting cross legged by the riverbank, head lifted, eyes rolled back. Ikaros didn’t linger, she tried to fight him off, but he wouldn’t let go, tugging at the threads of her mind just as hard to bring her back in.

_It’s dangerous! Stop!_

He disregarded her warning, flying high above the trees until he reached her camp. Lara was by the fire, crafting a few items.

 _Let go!_  she tried again.

He still didn’t listen, flying south of the camp and zeroing on a moving figure. Once she got a good look, he finally released the tension and allowed her back into her body. Kassandra collapsed on the grass, heaving, ragged pants coming out of her mouth as she tried to regain her breathing. Her limbs were shaking, heart hammering in her veins. The intensity of the experience after millennia of nothing had left her body buzzing with residual pent-up energy and completely drained at the same time.

“Maláka!” she scrambled to her feet and started running through the woods, leaving everything behind.

-0-

 

Kassandra crouched, sneaking behind a tree with the camp in her sight. She could hear the low crackling of the fire, the figure leaned over it, throwing dried twigs and poking at it with a stick. Nothing about her screamed danger, if anything she seemed deceptively relaxed. She didn’t look overly strong (though Kassandra could only see her from the back) or menacing. Not exactly average, but…

Well.

She had expected something more… impressive? Given the moniker, maybe someone a bit more imposing, with the arms and huge hands of a blacksmith? Flames dancing on her head?

It’s not that she was disappointed or anything. Just surprised.

There was a small, odd-shaped axe within her reach, another one strapped to her leg, and a bow leaned on the nearby tree. It made the other pause for a grand total of four seconds before she decided that the misthios did not expect to be ambushed anytime soon and now was her chance.

 _Good_.

It would only make this easier. With no slave around, Kassandra got overconfident, nocking an arrow as she stepped aside to have a better angle. The woman stood up turned to her just when she drew.

Oh.

_Oh.  
_

She froze, meeting equally surprised brown eyes. Kassandra noticed how her shoulders stiffened for the barest of moments before the misthios relaxed and smiled back at her. She gulped.

What a sight for sore eyes. The description she'd read in the scroll didn't do her justice _at all_.

Her cheeky grin made her face light up. _“Back so soon?”_

Kassandra blinked at her. That voice… it was nice. Made her tingle for some reason. She hadn’t understood a word of what she’d just said, though it did sound like a question and she visibly expected an answer. 

When the silence between them stretched into awkward territory, the woman went from smiling big and gazing at her like she was the second coming of Nike, to scrunching her brows in confusion as she took a better look. After three agonizing seconds of tense staring, she gasped quietly. Kassandra had just enough time gather herself and shoot when she saw a blur of armor and chains jump in the way to tackle the other misthios to the ground.

It stood up, Kassandra’s arrow jutting out of its arm. The masked slave. The one from Tartaros. Not a rabid, foaming beast but someone who could endure a powered arrow shot without so much as a grunt, even when she removed it. Zeus so help her, this was going to be hard. So much for avoiding close combat.

“Maláka,” she hastily knocked another just as the other veered around and dashed towards her.

Kassandra managed to get her in the stomach but the shot was weak and ricocheted against her _linothorax_. The slave was moving too fast, she didn’t have time to register what was happening. She couldn’t dodge her knee in time. It collided with her Spartan helmet and sent it flying.

Kassandra saw stars before her eyes, stumbling down at the impact. She rolled out of the way, jumped to her feet and shoved the other woman with a strong kick. The slave tried to block it by grabbing her leg but froze when she touched Kassandra. She staggered backwards, clutching her chest, seemingly in pain. Kassandra didn’t stop to ponder the situation. She saw an opening and took advantage of it, unsheathing both her _kopis_ and the spear before lunging forward.

* * *

 

Her eyes widened in horror, feeling her throat go dry and constrict suddenly. Her chest was burning, her ribs and back too, Kassandra faltered, narrowly dodging the Eagle Bearer’s kopis slicing at her side. When she lost her balance on a rock and fell backwards, Kassandra saw her lift the sword, ready to strike again before she got brutally shouldered by Lara.

Everything went dark.

 

...

 

She could see Masyaf’s turrets from where she was. The castle was imposing, a looming thing overlooking the cities of Damascus, Hama. The air was damp with yesterday’s rain, grey clouds and the lingering smell of earth were the only vestige of the downpour Kassandra had heard from her cell the night before.

The horse was skittish, ears perked, then flat on his head, hooves clomping nervously on the paved ground as he moved his head up and down, puffing out clouds of smoke.

He had smelled blood.

“ _Ela_ ,” she croaked, soothing the loyal animal that had followed her for the last twelve years. “It’s okay, Phobos,” her voice was hoarse, dried by all the screaming. Weeks of it. “It’s okay.”

The guard threw her a look and, without warning, jabbed her in the ribs with the pommel of his sword. Kassandra didn’t have it in her to cry out. Her body hunched over in a pathetic attempt to shield itself from the blow but the rope around her neck forced the woman upright like a ragdoll. Another broken rib. She felt it right as it went through her lung. If the noose didn’t kill her, this sure would.

It would take hours, though.

The horse neighed, front legs bending in a small rearing, shying away from the offending guard. “Stay still,” he barked at the both of them, grabbing the reins. Punching his muzzle when the horse bared his teeth and tried to bite his fingers off. “Idiot animal.”

Kassandra seriously considered kicking the man for laying a hand on _her_ horse before deciding against it. As satisfying as it would be to break his neck, it wouldn’t do any of them good. She knew she was going to die, but Phobos was a sturdy beast, he could be used. Sold to someone, maybe an Assassin who could take care of him while she… recovered.

She needed him alive, whenever she woke up. He would come back to find her, like he always did.

They waited in silence.

She wheezed, wincing at every breath, one eye closed shut after she got socked, the other so blurry, all she could see were shapes.

It wouldn’t be too long now.

Shadows approached, Kassandra squinted but she couldn’t make out their features. White cloaks, black cloaks, armors with crosses on them. Templars, all of them. She had failed, she had known it the moment they had ambushed her on her way to Damascus. Kassandra hadn’t yielded, enduring the burning – the angry cross they had branded on her back had yet to heal – the drowning and whipping as the days blurred together and all she could process was the pain. That wasn’t the worst of it, though. Her whole body felt like an open wound that pulsed to the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Despite it all, she hadn’t given them anything. They had grown increasingly frustrated with her mutism until one of the high-ranked Templars snapped and ordered her execution.

Hopefully, Altaïr would unravel the truth before they destroyed the Brotherhood from the inside.

“It wasn’t your time,” she heard. A female voice, soft, sounding almost pained.

Kassandra squinted at the blurred figures, but she couldn’t _see_. A dark cloak stepped forward.

“Any last words?” Al Mualim appraised her, looking just as dispassionate as he had the first time they had met. His calm was unnerving. “You don’t have to die, my child,” she could hear the smile in his voice. Oh, he had enjoyed watching his men torture her, though he hadn’t taken part in it. Probably didn’t want to stain his cloak. “We just need answers. We will let you go, you have my word.”

His word was as trustworthy as Markos’ schemes. Kassandra stared at him through her good eye, and spat straight in his open mouth. “I will see you in _Jahannam_ ,” she grinned with all her teeth. 

“Heretic,” he scoffed, wiping his mouth and turned around to give the go ahead to his man. Another white-cloaked assassin.

 _“Gaïa, mater pandos, cha—”_ he shoved a black shroud over her head and slapped the horse’s rear, cutting her prayer halfway through.

* * *

 

Lara scrambled to her feet just as the other woman reached for her small spear. She had barely enough time to kick it away before Kassandra got her in a headlock from behind. She felt her squeeze, Lara trashed, kicking her in the shin, elbowing her sides several times, prompted by her grunts.

_Come on!_

Her last jab got Kassandra to loosen her grip enough for Lara headbutt her in the nose and use the nearby tree to backflip out of reach.

They circled each other like predators, all ragged breathing and grunts.

 _It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not her,_ the words danced in her mind. _It’s not her. It’s not her. Don’t look at her face. It’s not her._

“I just want to talk,” she said, raising her hands a little.

It was the same voice. Exactly the same.

“You think I’m going to believe that after what you just did?” Lara snarled, eyes drifting to where Kassandra was having a seizure, limbs jerking around wildly. She went limp a few moments later. Unconscious. She was just unconscious, Lara tried to convince herself. Just unconscious. _Please, be okay_.  

The Eagle Bearer wiped at her nose and spat a lump of blood. “There’s a lot of drachmae on your head,” she replied, like it explained everything before chancing a look behind, quickly. “I’m sorry about your slave.”

She knew how Kassandra sounded when she was apologetic. This wasn’t it at all.

Lara’s blood ran cold with anger. How could she say something like that so breezily? “My _friend_ ,” she growled, lunging forward to slide and tackle her.

She yelped when Lara destroyed her foot with her boot, losing her balance. The archeologist jumped on Kassandra, not leaving her enough time to gather herself when she straddled her hips, scoring two hard hits before she got stopped and shoved forward.

It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her. It was someone who had tried to kill them. It was a threat. 

Lara tuned everything out, only answering to instinct. She blocked the blows as best as she could, but the other was relentless. She twisted out of reach, flipping them back while grabbing Kassandra’s arm in a lock and using her thighs as leverage. Lara squeezed and tugged as hard as she could, feeling as much as hearing her pained groans and frantic motions. It dislocated with a hard tug.

Alarms were blaring in her head, urging her to stop. Lara inadvertently loosened her grasp and rolled away.

Her breathing was heavy, nostrils flared. She blinked in disbelief when the other got to her feet with a swift jump. Just how much stamina did she have? Kassandra grabbed her by the throat with her good hand, pulling Lara up and high in the air. With no way to parry, the Spartan kick rattled through her and sent her flying against a tree.

Hot, white pain rocked her body. Lara stumbled to her knees, the wind knocked out of her. She coughed a couple of times. Blood was tickling down her cheek and her back was too soaked for it to be only sweat. Blurred eyes darted around, looking for something to use. They stopped on Kassandra’s still form a few meters away. She wasn’t breathing. Her chest wasn’t moving. Lara froze.

This couldn’t be.

_No…_

The switch went off.

When Lara blinked, she was back in that refinery in Peru. Her nostrils assaulted by burned oil, the toxic fumes, blood. The deafening whirling of the chopper hunting her. Rourke's taunting about Jonah’s presumed death on the radio, bullets whizzing, people screaming as they shot at her. They stood in her way. She had to get rid of them.

Threats. All of them.

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, lifting her head, eyes narrowed at the other woman standing just nearby, already looking around for her broken spear. Just like that fateful night, Lara saw red. Fingers reached for the knife hidden in her boot.

She was going to kill her.

She bolted, dodging the Eagle Bearer’s sword with disconcerting ease. Dancing around her as she used her small knife to slice shallow gashes on her arms, the exploded part of sides and finished with a blow to her stomach that knocked the breath out of Kassandra. She staggered to her knees, shaking arms keeping her upright.

“Fuck you,” Lara growled in English, kicking her under the chin and sending her to the ground. “Fuck you!” she yelled, the pain of her bruises dulled by the cold rage coursing through her veins. She straddled her again, pinning her in place, moving faster than her brain could register, her knife dangerously close to the woman’s carotid.

It was not her anymore, it wasn’t Lara. Her vision had gone red. The blade was on the other woman’s throat, already nipping at the side of her neck. But those weren’t Lara’s fingers around the grip. All she could smell was blood. All she could feel was the weight of the knife in her hand.

The threat. She had to get rid of it now. She had to.

_Kill her._

But it wasn’t really her hand. It wasn’t really her.

_Kill._

It wasn’t really a human being anymore.

_Kill the threat._

She heard the pained groan. That voice. Kassandra. It was Kassandra.

_Stop._

There was no fear when their eyes met, just plain resignation.

Kassandra had that same look, often. 

_Stop._

Lara’s vision cleared. No more red. No more blood. Her limbs were responding. She was back in control. She blinked once, twice.

_Breathe._

Her hand was shaking, hesitating. Reality came crashing back with a vengeance, Lara felt a sharp, acute throb in her jaw when the other woman punched and disarmed her before flipping their position. They rolled, exchanging fists at the same time. Her head was swimming as they tumbled down, rolling until she didn’t feel the ground anymore.

Her heart skipped a beat.

_Shit!_

They were falling and fast. Lara tried to untangle their limbs while flailing wildly. A hard kick and shove later, she was finally free of Kassandra’s hold on her pants at the expense of her belt.

Lara reached for the other axe at her side, sinking it along the cliff’s face until it found purchase in a crevasse and stopped her fall. She cried out with the abrupt motion, her arm taking most of the brunt. Looking down, she saw Kassandra twist her body and land with  an awkward roll down the ground before she stood up, clutching at her shoulder. The Eagle Bearer’s eyes drifted from the belt in her hand to her in confusion. She squinted up, looking equally surprised and enraged by the turn of events.

“How the…”

How on Earth was she still alive after that fall?

Lara didn’t want to dwell on it too much, at least it looked like her shoulder was too banged up for her to scale and get to the archeologist. She poked the cliff with her foot until she found a good climbing hold and hauled herself up, scrambling till she reached the top. She rolled on her back, looking at the orange sky as she tried to regain her breathing. An eagle was flying in circles above her.

What the absolute fuck just happened?  

Lara was just minding her own business, not bothering anyone. What was it about drachmae on her head? How did Kassandra even find them?

Kassandra.

“Shit!” Lara jumped to her feet, running back to their camp. She found her lying in the same spot and slid down the ground. “Kassandra?” she shook her arm.

No response.

Fingers went up to remove the mask, brushing over her neck inadvertently, feeling for a pulse before she recoiled in horror. “No. No, no, no,” she took the mask away, cradling Kassandra’s face, probing. “No, please no,” her voice quivered. It was pale, her lips tinted with blue.

Telltale signs.

She didn’t react when Lara slapped her cheek.

“Hold on,” somewhere in her mind she already knew, but she refused to give up, “Please, hold on.” 

Lara didn’t waste time. She ran back to the edge and grabbed her knife. Not once did she stop and think about how futile her efforts were. She couldn’t afford to.

“Come on,” she cut through the leather ties holding Kassandra’s linothorax in place. Her arms shook from exertion, the knife nipped the skin underneath the woman’s chiton.

There was still no pulse when Lara checked again, lifting her chin up. She wasn’t breathing either, her lips were blue and her face pale.

Telltale signs.

She had seen enough in her life to _know_. Lara still refused to acknowledge the obvious. She tore the chiton and began CPR. Thirty chest compressions. Check for a pulse. Mouth-to-mouth. Check for breathing.

Chest. Check. Mouth. Check.

Chest. Check. Mouth. Check.

Each passing minute was like a death sentence.

"Come on!"

Chest. Check. Mouth. Check.

Lara had reached one hundred and twenty when her arms started to give up on her. She was short on breath, wheezing and grunting.

"Breathe, damn it!"

_Don’t give up._

It was too late.

She should stop.

She knew it was.

Her lips were blue and her face pale. Telltale signs.

_Keep going._

Lara’s last desperate attempt had her literally pound Kassandra’s chest with the side of her fist, to no avail. Heaving a shaky sigh, her hands dropped along her sides and on her thighs. Lara slumped and shut her eyes as hard as she could.

The forest fell into tense silence. Waiting.

“Please,” she whispered, sniffling while biting her quivering lip. “Please, wake up.”

Kassandra was still lifeless, when Lara opened her eyes. Her hair loose and scattered, mouth halfway open from the CPR. She went to cover her chest with the botched chiton when the Caduceus caught Lara’s attention. It was glowing and pulsing faintly. She retraced the pendant with her eyes.

_“I will be back. Good as new.”_

The archeologist breathed again, muttering with a broken voice, “It better be true,” wiping the blood and tears off of her face with the back of her hand. “You hear me? Don’t leave me alone,” fingers brushed against Kassandra’s cheek. It was cold. So, so cold. “Come back.”

They couldn’t stay in the open like this. The Eagle Bearer might not be able to climb, but she could walk all the way back here, if she was intent on finding them or get her spear back. Lara dragged Kassandra’s body to one of the sleeping rugs and wrapped her in it. After breaking camp, she secured ropes on the rug and tied them to her middle to start walking.

_She’ll be back._

She will, like she said she would.

Two hours of waddling in the dark later, only aided by the regular shriek of an eagle above her, and slick with sweat, Lara found the abandoned temple where the bird had landed. He flew off as soon as she arrived.

The wooden door gave out after three shoves.

Dragging Kassandra on the ground close to the statue of Artemis at the far end, Lara made a fire and removed the sheet to assess the damage. Her skin was still deadly cold, but what caught her attention was the array of bruises; dark-blue and yellow hematomas had appeared all around Kassandra's throat. Lara had seen those marks before.

“What happened to you…” she retraced the bruises with her fingertips before pulling away, fist closed.

This didn’t make sense.

She hadn’t seen anything, it had all happened so fast. One second she was talking to a seemingly crestfallen Kassandra, the next Lara was on the ground with another Kassandra on top of her. She hadn’t seen them fight, as soon as she had regained her bearings and was on her feet, her (?) Kassandra was already down.

What had happened? How? It didn’t look like she’d been injured aside from the arrow she had taken for the archeologist. Nothing that would explain those markings on her throat.

The archeologist's head was swimming with questions.

She tried to make her comfortable, removing the rest of her armor and anything else that looked constricting. Damn it, how she wished she’d had the time to talk with Jacob about the Divine Source. Lara had no idea how the regenerative process worked, or how long it would take for Kassandra to heal, but she made a point to steer away from the pendant.

Lara didn’t sleep that night, or the night that followed.

She didn’t clean or bandage her own wounds, forgot to eat and didn’t leave Kassandra out of her sight, not once. She sat there, watching her chest with rapt attention, willing it to rise and fall with her breathing.

It stayed deadly still.

“Wake up,” she whispered, bringing her knees closer to her body, huddling for warmth. “Please, wake up.”

_Don’t leave me behind._

* * *

 

“Ow—hey!” Kassandra recoiled from Odessa’s callous touch. “Really?”

She scowled and got glared at in exchange. “Don’t be a baby. It’s a scratch, _Commander_.”

Her glower all but intensified at Odessa’s sardonic use of her title. The girl was still mad about the shroud, Kassandra could understand, but it did not give her the right to dig a hole in her arm. “Call Barnabas,” she ordered.

Her eye rolling skills were legendary. “Went to the temple in Phokis.”

“Herodotos?” she tried, moving away from her touch again when Odessa tutted at her.

“Busy.”

“Anyone?”

Odessa finally stopped what she was doing to give her a pointed look. “You gave us leave, remember? Nobody’s here. It’s the wine festival. They’re all getting drunk.”

Point taken. With everything going on, Kassandra had forgotten about that. “Why aren’t you with them?”

The woman scoffed like the mere fact that she was _asking_ was ridiculous. “Somebody has to stay and keep the ship while you go puff your chest and measure the length of your swords with other mercenaries,” she brushed off Kassandra’s retort before she could even voice it. “Besides, I will go tomorrow. Thyia will take over,” she dabbed the wet cloth over her busted lip, mumbling to herself. “That misthios didn’t miss you.”

Kassandra tsked, grumbling when she shifted around to let Odessa have a look at her slashed side. It wasn’t the worst of her injuries, though. Her shoulder was the real issue; pulsing with pain all the way to her fingertips. She couldn’t even raise her arm to help her.

“What happened?” the other woman probed. It might have sounded like a simple question, but Odessa had been her lieutenant for as long as she’d had the Adrestia. She knew the nonchalance was just a smokescreen to hide her concern.

Odessa cared, though you would catch her dead before she admitted it.

“I lost, that’s what,” she spat and winced at the pain in her jaw. “She’s small, but she is fierce.”

That was one way to put it, though ‘almost died’ would be a better fit in this case. Daughter of Hephaistos, what a deceptive moniker. Dread would suit her.

Her brother had already claimed that one for himself, though. Maybe they should fight over it.

“Small or not, she did put you back in your place.”

Well, if it wasn’t a slap in the face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” her voice rose when she snarled, turning around sharply.

Just because it was true didn’t mean Odessa had to point it out. Her ego was already battered as it was.

The woman stopped what she was doing to give her a very long and judgmental look. “You’ve been all but reckless, lately,” she chastised, voice rising a few octaves with her now very obvious irritation. “Look at you! The arena and now this? We’ve already used half of our supplies just to patch you up. Why do you think Barnabas left the Adrestia to go to the temple?” she let it sink for a moment and shook her head disapprovingly. “You are no God, Eagle Bearer. Keep it in mind or you will be meeting Charon sooner rather than later.”

The implications of what she had just revealed were enough to render Kassandra speechless. 

Of course.

She knew that, really she did, but what choice did she have? She _needed_ the drachmae.

In retrospect, she had been overconfident, thinking that once the beast was out, the misthios would be an easy fight. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Taunting the foreigner about her slave’s death had only stroked her ire to the point she had almost teared her arm off. Kassandra had fought back with all her might when she’d started getting slashed left and right, but it was like she didn’t feel her blows anymore.

There was a something in her, looming and dangerous, something made of fury. Something Kassandra had unleashed and came really close to pay with her own life, had the misthios not stopped herself.

Almost frightening, really.

Maybe _she_ was the one from Tartaros.

“She got mad when her slave died,” Kassandra continued, grunting when Odessa’s fingers probed her shoulder.

Mad, indeed. She’d had that glint in her eyes, the frenzied rage. Like she wanted to wipe Kassandra out of existence. Just thinking about it now was enough to make her shudder.

Another close call. Maybe too close.

“You killed the beast from Tartaros?” Odessa drew her back from her musings. Was that wonder in her voice? “How?”

She’d have basked in it, but the woman had principles. Never reap the credits of someone’s death when she had nothing to do with it. She might be smug and proud, but she wasn’t blind. Something had occurred and it hadn’t been her doing.

Odessa looked around for a second before taking the belt Kassandra had brought. She inspected the buckle and its intriguing pattern for a long while, nodding approvingly.

“Bite on this,” she folded the belt in two.

Kassandra’s lips drew in a thin line. She shifted, grabbing the wine amphora by the handle to take one large gulp before putting the piece of leather in her mouth.

“Ready?” she didn’t even wait for her nod before rolling and lifting her arm, successfully replacing her shoulder with a whipping _clack_. The watery shine in Kassandra’s eyes made her smirk. Vengeance was written all over her face. “You’re drooling, Commander.”

Spite was Odessa’s favorite mistress.

Kassandra spat the belt out, noticing the imprints her teeth had made. This had _hurt._ “I don’t know what happened,” she went back to their conversation. “She was lunging at me, and then she just…” eyebrows came together in a frown. “She dropped?”

Odessa blinked, brow creasing and lips twitching down with what appeared to be disappointment. “Well,” she went to fetch more leather straps to wrap her shoulder with. “Here goes the legend of the slave from the Underworld. People didn’t even have the time to write shanties in her honor and…” she snapped her fingers. “Dead.”

Kassandra’s only response was a small nod until she mulled the words over for a few seconds and faced Odessa, “Why would they write shanties about her?”

She hadn’t even known about them before Barnabas presented her with that cursed scroll. Were they really that renowned? Her lieutenant stared at her like she didn’t know if she wanted to smack Kassandra or burst out laughing.

“You haven’t heard?” Odessa tsked when the other woman shook her head. “They freed Mykonos from Spartans _and_ Athenians,” her voice took on a higher inflection, like it always did when she was stating something obvious. “It was the talk in the Agora in Korinthia for _weeks_. Something grand, worthy of Odysseus himself,” she nodded proudly.

Kassandra had been too fixated on paying Xenia to catch up on the latest accomplishments of rivals.

By nature, she rarely paid attention to gossip and she never asked why someone needed to die when taking on a bounty. More often than not, people calling upon her services would blurt it out, words spilling out of their mouths like marbles, rapid and frantic. A way for them to justify their actions because ‘he is a maláka’ and ‘you understand, right? What would you do in my place?’.

Kassandra might be the sword by which they died, but it didn’t make her clients any less responsible. She never judged them, though. Moral compasses were bad for business and she couldn’t afford it now.

She hadn’t asked why that woman needed to die either, with what Odessa was telling her now, she felt awful for even taking the job in the first place.

The foreigner had helped Kyra, and in doing so, had angered a few generals on both sides.

Kassandra had followed the drachmae blindly like the idiot she was. Desperate times.

Her eyes lingered on the belt and her spear nearby. She had gone back to retrieve it after an hour of mental back and forth and pep talk as she trekked her way back up, ready to fight for it (or die honorably) only to find the camp completely empty, like no one had been there, like she had dreamed that whole altercation.

Except for the bruises, that is.

It was then that Kassandra decided she was going to wait until she fully recovered (this time), find that misthios to apologize properly for the death of her slave and maybe thank her for saving Kyra’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... wasn't really how you expected it to go down, was it? 
> 
> By the way, this isn't the right way to do CPR, okay? I tweaked it to keep the sentences' rhythm/cadence/sound whatever you call it.
> 
> I went back and forth on how to work that bit ever since drafting the story. Time traveling in writing is a real handful, I first thought about them just fighting and then Kassandra coming really close to killing the Eagle Bearer before she realizes what she’s doing, but this would mean there would be no consequences to them sharing the same space, and that just wouldn’t do. So I switched to Lara, instead because girl needed some action and I live for pissed off Lara. She isn’t overpowered, by the way. Kassandra was already injured and didn't have the spear during the fight. Keep in mind that she's not nearly as strong as Keeper!Kass was when she took on Staff duty. 
> 
> Also, having all that opening about EagleBearer!Kass self congratulating her skills and all only to have her ass handed to her a bit later was just hilarious to write.
> 
> For those who aren’t too familiar with the AC lore, Altair is the first protagonist of the very first Assassin’s Creed. He was an orphan raised within the Brotherhood by Al Mualim who was his mentor. In the first game, it turns out Al Mualim made a deal with Templars in order to get one of the Apples of Eden. When the Templars found it, Al Mualim wanted to keep it for himself, so he made Altair kill every single one of them under the guise of winning his rank back. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	11. Chapitre Onze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, you're awesome you know :) thank you so much for the comments, follows and kudos! The support this story is gathering is out of this world. I never imagined my little crossover to get much attention, I'm glad I wasn't the only one who saw the potential those two ladies could have. So again, thank you. 
> 
> Work has been a real handful lately, I don't have as much time for writing as I'd like, which explains the length.
> 
> First scene was originally the last scene of the previous chapter, but it got very long. Too long. I have notes at the bottom but they're not relevant, you can skip them if you want. 
> 
> Kotinos is the olive wreath traditionally awarded to the winner of the Olympics.  
> Persian portico is, from what I understood a heap of Persian riches that Sparta took from them during the wars. They put it in the marketplace of the city.

 

The ashen and dispassionate stare of Artemis wasn’t something Kassandra had envisioned waking up to ever again. The Goddess always looked at her like she was up to no good. Like she knew all Kassandra was thinking about was a way to defile one of her most devoted servants.

(Daphnae had doubled over with laughter and swatted her arm when she’d shared her thoughts.)

She didn’t really have the time to dwell on this, or how she had ended up here of all places because the first conscious breath she took burned its way from her nostrils to her lungs, leaving her with watery eyes and delirious with pain. Kassandra groaned which, she realized a wee bit late, made it even worse.

Hanging absolutely _sucked_.

There was a weight slumped over her arm, she couldn’t move it. “Daph… nae?” talking was also a really bad idea, she discovered. Each inflection needled at her throat like a small knife. She rolled her tongue in her mouth, feeling around. It was still numb.

The weight shifted, coming into focus in front of her. Not Daphnae, no.

Just a bleary-eyed Lara, looking like she had rolled out of an UFC octagon after having been served seconds, thirds and fourths. “Hi…” she blinked a couple of times until the fog of sleep dissipated and her eyes widened. “Oh, God!” she lunged forward, taking her in a crushing hug. “You’re awake!”

Kassandra winced but swallowed back the grunt. She let it happen, slowly lifting her hand to rest on her back. The outburst was surprising, but not unexpected. It was the tremors she could feel rippling through Lara’s body that left her utterly confused. “Sad?” she rasped.

Lara pulled back, bloodshot eyes brimming with the emotional toll of Kassandra’s awakening. “Y-you were dead,” she looked at her, taking her in like she couldn’t believe it had worked and she was breathing again.

“I was,” Kassandra muttered, trying to spare her voice. She couldn’t begin to imagine what the experience had been like for Lara. It’s not like she had expected to die, she didn’t even have time to warn her. Everything had happened so suddenly.

This was a first for her as well; having someone to wake up to, so to speak.

It felt strange.

Kassandra spent the next minute in silence before croaking, “You don’t look too hot right now,” grimacing at the pain. Too many words, too soon.

But it was worth it for the ugly snort-sob sound spilling out of Lara’s mouth. Three traitorous tears ran down her cheeks as she sniffled. “You should see the other girl.”

Joking aside, that sobered Kassandra up immediately. She cleared her throat with a grimace, her tongue felt too thick in her mouth, it took a few tries to get it out, “What happened when I…”

“I almost…” Lara bit her lip, lowering her head for a moment. Her fingers were still caked with blood, knuckles opened and raw. She hid them under her thighs. “I lost control.”

On instinct, Kassandra thumbed at her cheek to wipe away the tears. She froze in the middle of it, realizing what she was doing. The other woman hadn’t stiffened or shied away from the touch. “Okay,” she said, leaving her hand to fall back along her side once she was done.

“I was going to…”

“Okay,” Kassandra cut her off, softly.

“I wanted to,” she confessed, looking at her in the eyes.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Lara stared at her open-mouthed.

“Okay,” Kassandra nodded. “You didn’t do it. So, it’s okay.”

She saw it on her face, how the archeologist was ready to argue, to launch on a long tirade about how just because it hadn’t happened didn’t make everything suddenly _okay_ and Kassandra should be just as horrified as she was for what _could_ have happened instead of offering one-syllable words. Especially something as uninspired as _okay_.

Oh, she could hear it all in her head, already. She didn’t have the strength.

“Later, please,” she said, shifting to sit and face her. The sheet fell to her hips, exposing the ruined chiton. After a few seconds of surprise, drifting from her chest to a wide-eyed Lara, she finally asked, “Why am I naked?”

The archeologist averted her questioning look. “I… uh,” and cleared her throat. “CPR.”

“But I was dead,” Kassandra blinked in wonder when a pink hue colored Lara's cheeks. Twice in a few months, that’s a record. 

“I didn’t know that yet,” it sounded a bit defensive. “I tried to help,” Lara shrugged helplessly.

She puffed, wrapping the sheet around her middle. “Thank you,” she could tease her and joke about it but decided not to. The other woman was already flustered enough. “For _helping_ ,” she cracked a smile.

Lara gave her a look, scoffing quietly.

Kassandra closed her eyes for a long while. She was exhausted. Coming back was draining; it had taken days last time to feel somewhat like herself again.

“You need rest,” her eyes snapped open again. There was a light frown Lara's face; concern as plain as day. Kassandra figured she probably looked pallid and frail now.

She was tempted to nod and just lie back but the other woman looked like she needed help. “Let me look at your bruises first,” deft hands took the ends of the sheet and wrapped it around, letting it fall like a makeshift _himaton_ on her body.

“I’m fine,” she shook her head, already standing up. Kassandra saw the grimace when she stretched. It made her scoff; that idiot would walk around with an amputated leg and call it a graze. They stared at each other for a moment before Lara felt the urge to add, “It’s just a scratch, really.”

See?

Just a scratch.

A scratch that made her double over and nearly fall on the other woman when Kassandra poked at her stomach sneakily. Her eyebrow arched. “A scratch,” she repeated with a wry smile. “Let me.”

Lara rolled her eyes, looking as stiff as a board when fingers reached for her top.

“I have to touch,” Kassandra tilted her head. “Be sure your ribs aren’t broken. Is it okay?”

The turmoil in her eyes was obvious. Lara always wore her discomfort on her face. After months of practically being attached to the hip, she had managed the small feat to show next to no skin in front of Kassandra, save for her arms and the odd times she would roll up her (surprisingly resilient) cargo pants up to the knees.

Impressive, really.

Very.

“Lara,” she tried again. “Look, I can close my eyes if you want but…”

The other woman shook her head, jolted back from whatever mental parlay she was involved in with herself. “I’m…” she took a deep breath before wincing and clutching her side. “Okay,” her nod was meek, but it was there.

“Okay?” she asked again, to make sure.

“Okay.”

Kassandra nodded. She carefully lifted the cropped chiton, keeping her eyes trained on Lara’s the whole time until it was high enough to expose her abdomen. “Maláka…” she breathed out, frowning at the spreading purple welts surrounded by yellow blotches. “I stamped you,” she hurried, feeling the woman already try to step away. Looking up, Kassandra smiled and tugged her back in by the hem. “You will have my footprint on you for a while, I’m afraid,” fingers ghosted over the bruises before she dared to touch. Feeling the muscles of her faintly visible abs tense a little when she chuckled. 

Lara’s small laugh was cut short by her cringing again. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Hazel eyes crinkled, shining with mirth as they flickered back to her face quickly. “I did warn you, though,” she paused, before confessing, “And I still held back.”

The admission didn’t seem to faze the other woman. She had fallen deadly silent, and Kassandra knew exactly why.

She didn’t comment on the other elephant in the room, though she couldn’t have missed it even if she tried.

The scars spread from her left hip to the lower part of her abdomen, just above the seam of her pants. She had felt it when she had touched Lara’s back that one time, had assumed to be something big, maybe a gunshot that had narrowly missed her kidney, but nothing like what she was seeing now.

Mangled scar tissue, still an angry red, despite looking to be a few years old. Vivid pink lines snaked their way like thunder bolts and converged to a jagged and swollen puncture wound. The skin had the telltale charring of badly healed injury. Kassandra was no doctor, but she knew a botched cauterization when she saw one.

It looked self-inflected, too.

She must have been desperate to do this.

When she glanced up, Lara’s eyes were jammed shut and her hands white-knuckled by apprehension. She had never seen the young woman look so… tense. Kassandra knew she couldn’t ask her about it, not now. It had taken the archeologist almost a year since their first meeting in Rintomos to be comfortable around her. She wasn’t going to pry.

This was already a big step.

“Take a deep breath,” she instructed, fingers probing at her sides, feeling her ribcage expand then hitch. “Again,” her brow creased in concentration, as she prodded around, noting when Lara winced. After a few minutes of silent examination, she smiled. “Good news is nothing seems broken.”

Lara’s eyes opened, blinking rapidly. Kassandra stepped away, letting the chiton fall and cover her abdomen again. “Bad news?”

“It’s cracked, you will have to take it slow for a couple of weeks. A month, really,” Kassandra was starting to feel dizzy, she sat down on the rug, dragging her bag to rummage through it. “No climbing and no fighting,” Lara’s nose was already scrunching up; she was going to argue. “No climbing and no fighting,” the woman repeated with a clipped tone. “For a week at least. We will stay here.”

Lara looked away, letting out a frustrated sigh before flopping down on the ground. “It’s too long. I’m fin—”

“It’s necessary,” Kassandra said, fetching the ointment she was looking for before handing it to her. “For both of us,” she blinked the blurriness away, heaving a sigh while rubbing her face; she really needed to sleep. “Use this, then we will bandage your ribs.”

She was expecting the young woman to nod and walk away in a corner, or even behind the statue to have some privacy. Lara surprised her by stripping down to her bra right there to spread the ointment.

Kassandra blinked once, twice, catching herself staring before she lowered her gaze and pretended to be wholly absorbed by her hands. She cleared her throat before remembering how much of a bad idea it was and made a face.

What on Earth was she doing, acting like a blushing virgin all of a sudden? Lara was too busy applying the ointment to notice Kassandra biting the inside of her lip. 

She took a deep breath, willing her body to calm down.

It’s okay.

It’s been a while, is all.

A very long while, now that she was thinking about it.

Kassandra was human and well, sometimes she did get the tingles. She wasn’t blind, either. Lara was attractive in a very oblivious way.

Extremely so.   

Still, it wasn’t fair to the other woman, just because she _could_ didn’t mean she should look.

Kassandra rolled her eyes, she needed to get a grip. She was going to help Lara bandage her ribs and then sleep off whatever… this thing was. 

She had just risen from the dead anyway, it’s not like she could do anything. She would probably pass out from exertion halfway through. And Lara looked like she had the stamina…

 _Stop_.

Kassandra was going to _help_ bandage her ribs and then she was going to _sleep_.

“…right?”

She blinked, Lara was frowning at her again, waiting. “What?”

“Are you alright?” the archeologist repeated, squeezing her arm.

In this hazed state, skin to skin made it worse but Kassandra managed to keep herself in check. She nodded a moment later, grabbing the bandages and gesturing for the other woman to turn around.

Looking at her back would make things easier. She wrapped the strips around Lara’s abdomen, keeping her eyes on her hands and the knot she was making. There were more scars in her peripheral view. Those, she knew by touch, but she didn’t linger.

“Harder?”

Oh, for Gods’ sake.

Traitorous tongue.

She was absolutely certain her mind was in the gutter because she was back in the temple. She used to tease Daphnae just like this, until the woman's embarrassed flush reached lobster red and she would threaten to kill her on the spot, should Kassandra speak another word or smile that sly smirk of hers.

This place held many memories, happy ones. And that cursed statue, giving her this knowing look… Kassandra had half a mind to sneer at it, just because. She breathed through her nose, tying the knot and running her fingers on the bandage to check. “We will change it in two days.”

The woman tuned the rest of the world out, tending to Lara’s other bruises without a word. Night had fallen again when she was done and she flopped on her bedroll, feeling the numbness in her limbs start to subside. The Staff was slowly working its magic again.

She declined when Lara handed her a couple of dried fruits and nuts. Kassandra wasn’t sure her throat would cooperate. She wasn’t hungry anyway. Exhaustion made her eyes burn behind the eyelids, she turned around, away from the firelight and relaxed.

She managed to ignore Lara for fifteen minutes straight until she couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop staring. I can’t sleep.”

“I would feel better if you snored.”

Kassandra laughed, coughed before laughing again. “Ow,” she rubbed her sore throat, swallowing with difficulty. “I will think about it. In the meantime, I can assure you that I’m not going to die, so please get some rest.”

She heard shuffling behind her and a small sigh. Then, a timid: “Sorry,” but Lara was still looking. “Old habit.”

She couldn’t blame her. After some gentle nudging earlier this afternoon, the archeologist had finally admitted that she hadn’t slept a wink and stood guard the whole time until fatigue knocked her over just before Kassandra finally woke up.

She understood, really.

But Kassandra needed to sleep, otherwise the recovery would take even longer. They didn’t have the luxury of time now.

“I’m okay, Lara,” she said. “It’s not the first time.”

There was only silence for a little while before the other woman dared, “Last time...”

Curious as was her nature. Kassandra was impressed by her patience; she had waited this long to ask.

“Before I found you on Andros,” she turned around to face her, nodding. “The poison.”

Lara’s features darkened as she processed the information, remembering something unpleasant, it seemed. “Bastards,” she mumbled to herself, glaring dangerously at the fire before throwing a twig in it.

Kassandra blinked a few times. She couldn’t muster the strength to be upset at this point, it was in the past. “Like I said, not the first time. I try to avoid it, though,” she made a vague motion towards herself for emphasis.

Brown eyes left the dancing flames to focus on her. Like that first night in the cave near Melitus. They bore into her again, except Lara wasn’t trying to crack her down now. They held none of the neutral but eager interest of last time.

Concern.

Relief.

Something else too.

“You scared me,” no louder than a whisper. “I thought... I know you said you would be back,” her shoulders sagged. “But after the first day, I...”

“I’m sorry,” Kassandra blurted. She felt the urge to apologize though she didn’t know exactly why.

Lara scratched her arm above the bandage. “Not your fault,” they shared a long look and a smile when it clicked. “Not _yours_ ,” she repeated pointedly before frowning and biting her lip. She glanced at Kassandra again. “What happened?”

The burning question, indeed.

“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly, letting out a deep sigh before continuing. “When I touched her, I felt...” a visible shudder ran down her spine, Kassandra brought the shawl closer to her body. “The noose around my neck, from another death.”

She tried to blink the memories away. Getting whipped and branded like an animal were already bad on their own, but nothing compared to how haggard and delirious Kassandra had been once they'd started taking turns to prevent her from sleeping. Alexios, Brasidas, Myrinne, Phoibe… they had all appeared in her cell, sometimes sneering at her for being weak, sometimes begging her to save them, taunting, haunting.

She had prayed like a madwoman, whispering in Ancient Greek, asking them for forgiveness but they wouldn’t leave her alone. Not until an overzealous Templar almost drowned her and incidentally knocked her out.

Kassandra closed her eyes, focusing back on the present. A small, shaky breath came out of her mouth.

Not her worst death, but one of the most memorable.

Lara’s face was unreadable when she glanced at her. “I’m sorry you had to go through this again,” her voice wasn’t loud, though it held an edge, a distressed anger on Kassandra’s behalf.

The other woman could only shrug. Dwelling was useless; it had happened centuries ago. “I think the pendant was protecting me...” face scrunched as she spoke. It felt odd to talk about herself in the third person “Her, from me. Like a safety switch.”

Lara nodded along, following her train of thoughts. “So, you don’t kill her,” the grimace she made mirrored Kassandra’s. She must have come to the same conclusion. “Your past self.”

“Something like that, yes.” Aletheia would know more about this. She should have asked her when they were on Thera. If only she had known. They wouldn’t get to Athens before the blood fever hit if they traveled back now. “Let’s try to avoid her from now on, okay?” she gave Lara a small smile. “We will be more careful.”

“About that...” the archeologist winced, looking apologetic all of a sudden. “I’m wanted,” she blurted.

Kassandra blinked at her. “What?” but how? It took a second for her to be reminded that indeed, they hadn’t been as careful as she thought. And it was all her fault. Again. “Shit,” the other shared her sentiment, humming lowly. “Damn it,” brow creased in annoyance, she shifted to sit on the bedroll. “How much?”

Lara shrugged helplessly. “She said a lot.”

“ _Shit_.”

“Can’t we just lay low for a while?”

Her naivety was almost endearing. Almost. “No, we need to...” Kassandra hadn’t told her about Phoibe and why she wanted to go to Athens. There hadn’t been time, between the battles in Mykonos; she had skillfully avoided the subject afterwards. A part of her hoped she wouldn’t have to, not until they were there. This wasn’t something she was ready to share. Not yet. “We have to deal with this.”

They wouldn’t be able to set foot in the city with a bounty on Lara’s head.

The young woman was confused. “How?”

Kassandra’s lips pursed. She was staring a hole in the ground, thinking. There was a way, maybe. It was dangerous, but if they played it right... they would have just enough time to arrive before Athens succumbed to the blood fever.

It wasn’t something she wanted to discuss tonight. They had spoken enough and she needed to sleep on it. Convincing Lara was not going to be easy.

“I don’t know yet,” she looked up, hoping her face wouldn’t betray her. “But we have to find something.”

* * *

 

Exactly one week after she came back from the dead, Kassandra slapped Lara in the face with a: “We need to split.”

The archeologist felt the acute blow in her guts. Putting down the bow she had been tinkering with to blink at her. “Pardon?”

“We need to split,” she repeated casually, like she hadn’t been clear enough.

(Lara had heard her perfectly that first time. She just wanted to give her time to backpedal.)

“Uh...” Kassandra had this intense look, like she was getting ready to fight with all her might over it. “Why?”

She veered around and started to pack. “Mercenaries are looking for you,” the tension radiating from her was starting to get to the archeologist. “We have to split,” third time in less than two minutes. Something was really wrong.

Something Kassandra wasn’t telling her, she knew. She had known since the night the woman woke up. Lara had let it go, leaving her to speak on her own terms, when she was ready. Thinking back, maybe Lara shouldn’t have because she didn’t know how to feel about this, now that it was out. Her heart was doing this weird thing like when she was anxious and upset at the same time, beating painfully fast in her ribcage.

It made sense objectively speaking. Kassandra would want to be as far away as possible from her, in case she came face to face with the Eagle Bearer again. Lara wouldn’t put her through this another time.

Just because it was the best solution didn’t mean she had to like it. In fact, she absolutely hated it. What if something happened? What if Kassandra died, and there was no one around to look after her while she recovered? What if someone stole the pendant?

Lara didn’t want to leave her.

She was going to tell her just that when Kassandra turned around again while fastening her bag. “Are you alright?” how could she ask her something like that? “What’s wrong?”

Lara’s eyes narrowed. “You just…” her arms flailed around. “You take decisions without telling me first. What happened to doing things together?”

Kassandra was already opening her mouth, but the young woman beat her to it. She was going to tell her piece first.

“You can’t expect me to blindly follow your lead every time you feel like it. It doesn’t work like this. We need to talk,” she motioned at the space between them, gesturing back and forth. “You have to let me in.”

Kassandra closed her mouth and swallowed. She was frowning at her hands on the bag like they were holding some obscure secret she was after. Making her mind, she let it fall a few moments later and sat down to face Lara.

“I’m trying to prot—” the scalding glare made her reconsider her words. “I’m sorry,” she tried again after a moment, folding her fingers together when she leaned over on her arms. “I should have told you before. I have a plan, but it’s dangerous.”

All she got was a scoff. “When is it not?” the mirth was gone from her face a second later. “You just expected me to go along, no questions asked?”

Kassandra winced, giving a slow shrug. “Something like that…” she raised her hand, gesturing for her to wait. “I’m going to find out who put that bounty on your head, that’s why you cannot come with me. We have to split.”

This made sense, she could admit it.

Lara wet her lips. She didn’t like the idea of twiddling her thumbs in a corner while Kassandra did all the heavy lifting, though. “I can help,” she said stubbornly.

“And you will,” the other woman nodded. “But not with this. Mercenaries…”

“I already beat you.”

Kassandra puffed. They had yet to talk about this particular encounter. “She is the least of your worries now, trust me. There are others…” she trailed off. “Stronger.”

Lara could feel the frown crease her face. Moss’ research had revealed Kassandra to be at the top of the food chain. He had been ecstatic, voice booming with excitement on the phone as he shared the news with her. “I thought you were…”

The other woman saw where this was going and shook her head. “I will, but not yet,” she held both palms in front of her, facing one another and made a cutting motion in the space between. “The Eagle Bearer is there in the middle. The only reason she found you first is because I’m good at tracking people. The others must be on your trail as well. It’s just a question of time now.”

Lara was thumbing at her lower lip, thinking. The fight had taken its toll on her too, as much as she downplayed it. It had been complicated. She could get the mercenaries using stealth, but it meant being on high alert every time for who knows how long. It would be impossible to keep up, in the long run.  

“I can’t stay here,” she voiced her thoughts. She had to go in hiding, maybe an underwater cave or something. Kassandra knew the area; she could find her a safe spot to wait it out.

“And you won’t,” she reached over and squeezed her shoulder, offering gentle comfort as she revealed the next part of her plan, “You will leave for Chios tomorrow.”

Lara worried at her lip, confusion clouding her eyes. “Chios? Why?”

That was far. Far from Athens, Sparta and any big cities. News traveled slower there, but still. Just the trip itself would take at least two months.

“You will join the Daughters of Artemis.”

She perked up, wide-eyed, completely flabbergasted by the revelation. “They exist?”

Lara had come across bits of information related to the Cult of Artemis, a long time ago – while she understood the use of the term, the young student that she had been couldn’t help but think of it as a personal attack by some frustrated archeologist. A group of women predating the Amazons that Herodotos briefly mentioned in _Histories._ Scythian tribes were always believed to have inspired the myths around Amazons, but Lara had a hunch that something was amiss. Finding crumbs about a group of female warriors worshipping Artemis had only comforted her assumptions, though she hadn’t shared anything with her professors, not even Moss.

“You know about them?” Kassandra was just as surprised or impressed, she couldn’t tell.

Lara brushed it off. “Speculations only, there isn’t much…” now that she was thinking about it, it was like someone had deliberately and meticulously erased them from history. She titled her head, studying the other woman who was looking increasingly guilty as seconds tickled by. “Your doing?”

Kassandra winced and looked away. Bingo.

“Maybe,” raising her hands defensively. “But I was asked to…” she trailed off and shook her head. “It’s a story for another time,” before going back to the original topic. “Once you join the Daughters you will be safe. No amount of drachmae is worth angering them. Every mercenary knows that.”

“They don’t seem to be the friendliest of people…” maybe calling them cult-like had been accurate after all.

“They are not,” Kassandra confirmed. “They are wary of strangers and they kill on sight.”

She had said that so breezily that it made Lara snort out of a laugh. Her plan was dangerous, alright. “How am I supposed to approach them, then? Do I wave a sign with your name on it?”

Kassandra grinned with all her teeth, chuckling along with her. “That might make it worse,” her smile fell a second later as she sobered up. “Seriously, don’t mention me. At all.”

Lara knew that look. It had guilt written all over it. Kassandra averted her gaze again, looking at her folded hands. “What did you do?”

There was an odd shine to her eyes when she lifted her head, a moment later. She wasn’t smiling, her features were completely blank. “Nothing bad. Their leader… she doesn’t like me much.”

They had been traveling together for close to a year now, which meant Lara was well-versed in Kassandra’s cryptic tendencies. ‘Not liked’ stood for ‘likely to be killed on the spot’ in her dictionary.

She tried to alleviate the tension with a joke, but realized her mistake as soon as the words, “Did you try to kill her lover, too?” came out.

Kassandra’s smile was grim, her eyes too solemn and wary to be genuine. She turned to the side, staring at the statue at the far end. “Sometimes, I wish I had,” she muttered before shaking herself out of it, stance shifting as she put more distance between them. “In any case, you will be safe there. Once you go through their trials, they will welcome you. I—the Eagle Bearer won’t set foot on Chios, even if she knows where you are.”

The topic was sensitive enough for Kassandra’s uneasiness to ooze through her. Lara wasn’t going to pry, not this time. “Okay,” she said.

“We will cross to Malis and find a ship for you there,” when Lara nodded, Kassandra stood up to grab her bow and left with a, “I’ll go get us something to eat for the road.”

A valiant excuse. She always did this when she needed some time alone with her thoughts. Lara didn’t follow and busied herself with packing, instead. When it was done, she paced nervously, and when that didn’t help either, she took her journal with a huff and started sketching the statue, chastising herself for not doing it sooner. Archeology had taken a backseat those past few weeks, she was late in her entry logs.

Night had fallen for a while when the door of the temple creaked, announcing Kassandra’s presence. Lara was already settled in for the night, she heard faint shuffling as the other woman moved around, slow and careful for a few minutes before she finally lied down.

Neither of them slept that night.

The trek to Malis was tense and silent, though they weren’t in a bad mood per se. Kassandra was elsewhere, probably mulling her next move, while Lara’s stomach kept twisting in her abdomen. There was a lump that kept expanding stubbornly every time she breathed. It refused to go away.

In a couple of hours, she would be alone.

Lara could fend for herself, this wouldn’t be the first time. But she had gotten used to Kassandra’s presence. Her loud belly-laugh and ill-timed jokes, the bleary morning eyes and the childlike wonder when she looked at the night sky. Their long-winded debates on history and the smugness of her smile when she knew she was _right_.

Hell, even her temper.

Kassandra had become such a fixture in her life, it was almost scary. For years, Lara had silently prided her ability to rely only on herself, both to protect her shrinking social circle and her own sanity from losing any more of her friends. She always kept a polite distance, refusing to let anyone new in. Forming new bonds increased the probability of seeing those same people die, and she couldn’t live with this anymore.

Loneliness was a better bargain than grief.

Yet, Kassandra had barged in with her huge self and thrown all this carefully crafted plan out of the window with no preamble. It was hard not to get attached when she remained stubbornly _there_ and the worst of it was that Lara hadn’t even tried. If anything, it had been the other way around.

“We’re here,” Kassandra’s voice drew her out of her musings. They were standing on a hill overlooking the city port.

Lara nodded, the lump in her stomach had crawled its way up her throat. She didn’t trust herself to talk.

Kassandra heaved a deep sigh, turning to face her. The smile on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You will be okay?”

The archeologist stared at her in disbelief. “You’re asking me?”

“Right,” she snorted. “You will be okay,” she nodded to herself, infusing more confidence in the words.

They were silent for a while. Kassandra looked around quickly and put her hood back on to hide from possible travelers. The road was deserted, but they still had to be careful.

“It’s not a farewell,” she blurted. “I will be fast, I promise.” Lara could only nod. “Don’t be reckless, okay?” Kassandra touched her shoulder, massaging the stiffness away. “If they talk to you about hunting legendary beasts…”

“I say no thank you,” she finished for her. “You told me already.”

“Right,” Kassandra was shuffling on her feet nervously. “The Daughters are good people. Once you belong,” she smiled again, but it was forced. “Their leader taught me a lot. They will teach you a lot.”

“I’m sure,” Lara's nod was meek.

“You will pass their tests easily, you’re a good archer,” the young woman quirked an eyebrow at the word ‘good’, nudging Kassandra with her fist, forcing her to take a step back. “The best I know,” she admitted with a timid smile. “And I know a lot of people.”

Silence hung between them like a third wheel.

“You be careful too, okay?”

Kassandra’s eyes crinkled. “You know me,” but her stern look made her reconsider. “I promise.”

She always kept her promises.

Lara looked at the ships in the harbor. Sailors moving back and forth between the decks and the port, crates and bags slung over their naked shoulders with the setting sun behind them. It was beautiful, she wished she could take a picture.

“Okay,” shoulders rising and falling with her deep breath. “I think I should…” she pointed downhill.

Kassandra hadn’t stopped looking at her. She nodded in quick succession. “Yes. Yes, it’s time.”

Lara smiled up at her. “I will see you soon,” she forced back her lump and started trekking down the path towards the port.

She was only a few hundred meters away when she heard Kassandra’s unusually heavy footsteps. There was a hand on her wrist, Lara felt herself being twirled around before she was taken in a crushing hug. Her breath hitched quietly, muscles stiffening on instinct before she relaxed.

The lump in her stomach dissolved with each of Kassandra’s slow inhales against her. Lara closed her eyes, listening to her steady heartbeat for a little while.

When they finally pulled away, Kassandra surprised her by pressing her lips to Lara's forehead and bringing her hood up in a swift motion. “You’re wanted,” she whispered, close to her lips, before stepping away again and waving awkwardly.

She walked backward, not leaving Lara out of her sight even when the archeologist finally turned around to resume her trek to the port.

Lara swore could feel her gaze long after she found a ship and departed.

* * *

 

The first week was awful.

So were the second, and third. By the first month, Kassandra realized how Lara’s presence had filled the silence Ikaros’ death had left in its wake. For the first time in a year, she was truly alone.

She had forgotten how it felt and she didn’t like it one bit.  

By the second month, she relented to steal a horse. It would make the trip to Sparta faster. Lara’s moral compass had definitely rubbed off on her; she left a note promising the farmers to bring the mare back in a couple of months and extra drachmae for their trouble. Thinking of the archeologist managed to put a smile on her face that day, until night came with its reminders.

Nobody to talk to or watch the stars with.

“I hope you’re alive,” she muttered at the sky on a particularly chilly night. Kassandra had alternated between cussing herself for leaving Lara alone and cussing herself for not trusting the archeologist to get by on her own. “Please, be alive.”

Three months and a half after they had parted ways, she saw the temple overlooking the city with the Legendary Twins holding their flame and mace. Lakonia was warmer than the rest of Greece at this time of the year, but her breath still fogged as the horse trotted lazily on the road. It was early morning when she crossed the dense forest surrounding the gates. She left the horse at a stable with a few drachmae and crossed the agora.

Coming back here had always filled her with a sense of dread and longing; even during the twenty-first century. Sparta had been her home once, but it never truly felt like one after Mount Taygetos. She had won Myrinne’s citizenship with sweat and blood, earning the _kotinos_ and walking away with a few more scars from Boeotia, but she didn’t know what to do with hers. Not that it had mattered, Kassandra had been Spartan for a hot second before the very same people who had sentenced her to death as a child, decided to escort her outside of the city for accusing King Pausanias of treason.

It had taken all of Brasidas’ pragmatism and oratory skills to calm Archidamos’ fury. Word had it her mater also intervened and promised the surviving King that Kassandra would never try to overthrow him and reclaim what was rightfully hers by birth.

They never spoke of it.

She walked past the _Persian portico,_ standing tall in the agora before stopping at the feet of Artemisia’s white-marbled statue. The Queen that could have changed the course of History, had Xerxes only listened to her and not engaged the Greeks at sea. Despite the rampant xenophobia against Persians in the high spheres of the Spartan army, Nikolaos never spoke ill of her. As queen, she had brought her people to greatness and was as much of a warrior as the best of her men. A strategos like no other.

 _“Respect doesn’t concern itself with sides,”_ he had told her once, as they stood in this very place. _“Even your grandfather was in awe and commissioned the statue in her honor.”_

 _I wish she could see this…_ Kassandra surprised herself with the thought buzzing about in her head.

Maybe someday.

She sighed, tearing her gaze away from the statue to amble around in the agora. She wasn’t wearing a mask, but the long and dusty hooded cape was enough of a deterrent for Spartans and helots alike not to stand in her way. The general who was ready to pay a small fortune for Lara’s head – and hers, by extension – lived in the outskirt of the city, near the gymnasium where future warriors fought and died before even reaching adulthood.

She wasn’t going to go there, not yet. Not until she shook whatever tail was currently following her. Kassandra rounded the agora three times, looking as innocuous as possible as she observed the stalls of the few bleary-eyed merchants already screaming at the top of their lungs, and bought a honeyed pear with the last of her drachmae. Munching on it slowly, she walked out of the marketplace and into the narrow alleys, still fogged by the early morning mist.

She disappeared, climbing on one of the houses to get a vantage point of her follower. Her instinct didn’t fail her, not even two minutes had passed by before a fisherman with tousled hair walked through the same alley, pushing a wooden trolley with a fishnet on it. He stopped just beneath her, looking left and right.

Kassandra jumped on him before he could look up. She landed on his shoulders, feet first, tumbling down with a dagger at the ready. He slapped it away, like she had expected him to. She kicked him in the chest and grabbed him under the chin, shoving him to the wall with another dagger at his throat. She felt it bobble when he gulped with surprise.

“Brasidas?!”

The wrinkles around his eyes stretched with his wide grin. “Kassandra.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The worst kind of torture is indeed sleep deprivation. It directly fucks up with your brain and it’s still used to this day. 
> 
> This chapter was a lot more light-hearted than I'm used to. I regret nothing. But you got some fluff :) and Lara flashing Kassandra. 
> 
> Most of next chapter will be focused on Lara in Chios. I deliberately left that part out. I wanted to have this chapter go back and forth between them, but the length of the scenes in the temple/goodbye made it impossible. So a bit of Kassandra and a lot of Lara next one.


	12. Chapitre Douze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love, you guys. You made me blush, chuckle and laugh out loud with your comments. I appreciate your support!
> 
> Also, some news! I now have an awesome beta: [Aigu_CleverUsername](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aigu_CleverUsername/profile) who kindly went over this chapter! From now on there will be less awkward typos and tighter writing/narrative! A big ass thank you to them. 
> 
> sideritis are medicinal herbs which were used a lot in Ancient Greece, they called it Mountain Tea.  
> skeuos means bag

 

 

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?” Lara was too busy slicing peppers to turn around, but she could acutely picture the annoyed frown on Kassandra’s face, complete with the tiny crease that always appeared when her nose scrunched up. “What’s wrong with it?”

There was a long, drawn-out sigh followed by a small whine. “Please, let me take over. I can’t look at you destroying my kitchen.”

Kassandra totally wanted to offend her, Lara was not going to take the bait. It _was_ her turn and she _was_ going to show what she was capable of. She might not have her skills, but still. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“It’s food, Lara,” she left the rest unsaid. _It’s serious, I’m not dramatic. You’re ruining it._

Kassandra walked around the small kitchen, droning over her, not unlike the chopper in Peru. Lara shuddered, holding her breath for three seconds, then letting it out in small, discreet puffs. Safe. She was safe. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re making _me_ nervous.”

Lara felt the other woman throw another quick look above her shoulder. Bloody giant. She surprised herself trying to figure out which one of Kassandra’s  parents had passed on that particular gene. Could she ask? They had only known each other for a couple of weeks, now. Kassandra had warmed up, but like her, she was inherently private. The apartment she lived in was pathetically bare, no pictures, no personal touch. It was a safe house, really. Common and generic. Easy to leave behind.

“Did your mother teach you?” Lara turned her head. Kassandra had (thankfully) retreated to the wall. “To cook,” she added when the other looked at her curiously.

“No,” Kassandra shook her head, silent for a while with her arms crossed and her eyes downcast. “She taught me to hunt, though. And fight.”

It didn’t surprise her, somehow. Lara grinned, dropping the peppers she had _carefully_ diced in the pan, along with the sizzling chicken. “She sounds like an interesting woman.”

All she got was a hum. “She was.”

Past tense.

Lara winced; the apology ready on her lips, when Kassandra spoke again. “Who taught you?”

The change of topic was welcomed. She latched onto it. “Boarding school,” her tone was clearly dry as she added, “Art of domestic skills 101, they called it.”

Kassandra guffawed. “Seriously?” Lara’s slow nod made her laugh even louder. It filled the whole room, along with the sweet, sweet scent of slow-cooking peppers. “What is this, Elizabethan England?”

“Cheltenham Ladies’ College, actually.”

“Middle Age?”

“Beautiful architecture,” Lara said, fussing over the vegetables, still. “The library was gorgeous,” not as extensive as the one in the Manor, though.

Kassandra was still observing her. She looked a lot less stiff. “It’s funny,” she started with a small smile. “I can actually picture you fitting in there.”

“More or less,” she pointed at herself with the knife. “I’m not exactly a lady,” despite her title.

Her brows furrowed. “Bullying?” there was an edge to her voice, in her eyes as well.

Lara switched to peeling tomatoes. “Not... exactly no,” something close, but it couldn’t be called bullying per se. Blue Bloods, especially ladies, didn’t really bully. They were sneakier about it, more subtle. “I climbed trees and did archery, it’s not exactly proper etiquette.”

Winston had never said anything against it. Her dad was ecstatic, and Roth was the one who got Lara her first bow. Nobody had thought anything about it at all. Not until she reached the dreaded stage of secondary school. Then, all hell broke loose and little Lara, with her obsession for Mythologies, her scraped knees, her reflex bow, and her dead parents, stood out like a sore thumb.

“What’s wrong with climbing trees?” Kassandra sounded genuinely puzzled. It was almost charming. She really had no idea how high spheres of British elitism worked.

“Too tomboyish, apparently,” she hummed, throwing the tomatoes in with a drizzle of lemon. This was starting to smell good, no matter what Kassandra said.

“Someone called you a tomboy...” the woman began, peeling herself off the wall to stand up straight. “For climbing trees?”

Lara could see her shoulders square and the tension straining her arms. She sounded and looked annoyed, all of a sudden.

“Uh...” she hadn’t meant to dwell on this. “Yes?” her tone was deliberately light. It wasn’t a big deal, really. Happened years ago.

“I hope you gave that maláka a crooked nose,” Kassandra actually growled. “She deserves a crooked nose for mocking you. Idiot.”

Lara grinned, then chuckled. Kassandra _was_ annoyed on her behalf. It felt odd, somewhat pleasant. Warm. “I pushed her and got detention.”

And Winston’s Stare of Disapproval™ once she had come back the following week, for holidays.

“Did you break her nose?”

“No.”

“Her fingers, at least?”

Lara blinked at her. “I was twelve?”

Kassandra looked like she wanted to add something, maybe argue, but shook her head instead. “Right,” she tsked after a while, mumbling about trees and _malákes_ airheads _._

Talking about the past had its perks, she wasn’t fussing over Lara about food. She had completely forgotten about it until the young woman was done and asked her if she could set the table.

Lara felt like she was taking an exam, staring at Kassandra like a hawk as she took her first bite. “Did you poison it?” the other woman blurted, before cracking a smile when she started stammering awkwardly before scowling.

“You’re awful.”

That was a weak retort if she ever heard one. Her snark tended to shrink and hide when she wasn’t in immediate danger. It didn’t hold a candle next to Kassandra’s sardonic sense of humor.

All she got was another irritating (but beautiful) grin.

“It’s delicious,” she said. “Good job.”

-0-

 

“Land!”

Lara startled, jolted back from her reverie by the cacophony of relieved sighs and stifled cries.

_Finally._

Two months of being cramped on a ship with no one to distract her. Traveling always felt a lot less dreadful when she had company, kilometers swallowed and easily forgotten as discussions went on. She hadn’t realized how much she and Kassandra _talked_ during their journeys.

Another thing she hadn’t noticed, or rather, conveniently ignored, was how people avoided her. She had first put it on Kassandra shadowing her when they walked, which tended to be a deterrent on its own, especially when she wore the mercenary mask. Except now Lara was alone and she realized it hadn’t been the (only) reason.

The young woman had heard the whispers, the ‘foreigner’ and ‘up to no good’, how they would stop and stare or snicker behind her back when they thought she couldn’t understand.

Being with Kassandra had somehow sheltered her from all of this.

Those two months had not been easy. Lara had mostly kept to herself, going over the plan they had concocted to join the Daughters of Artemis, but some days were still harder than others.

Hopefully, the warriors would be more welcoming once she proved herself.

Lara elbowed her way out of the horde of people on the front deck to climb up the mast, giving an awkward smile to the wide-eyed sailor stationed there. The looming clouds reflected grey on the ocean and the wind carried the heaviness of coming rain. As the other half of the Petrified Islands, Chios was beautiful. All hard edges, cliffs standing like broken teeth, covered by dense forests. It didn’t quite look the same as it would in the future. She decided to sketch it as well as she could; it didn’t beat taking a picture, but it was still something to remember when they were back to their time.

It took a ridiculous amount of time to unload the ship’s cargo; mostly due to a bellowing iron merchant who insisted on having his goods taken care of first. By the time she was done helping the crew – thanking them for not laughing at her when she had next to no drachmae to pay for the trip to Chios, night had already fallen.

Lara ambled around the fisherman town for a couple of hours before finding an inn whose patron wouldn’t give her the stink eye and call her Persian. It was an old lady with poor eyesight and a gentle smile who finally let her in. The room was sparse, but it was clean. Her sleep was fitful; apprehension and nerves made her restless, robbing her of a much-needed rest.

Lara entered the forest bleary-eyed and on an empty stomach, the following morning; not wanting to abuse the old woman’s hospitality, or get her into trouble for letting a wanted person in her establishment. She followed Kassandra’s instructions to a T and still got lost wandering about until high pitched howling got her attention.

Too high to be wolves.

Definitely human. Definitely female, too.

_A pathfinder_ , her mind supplied. Kassandra had given her a quick crash course on the Daughters’ hierarchy. Pathfinders usually scouted the area with their wolves. She didn’t have the best track record with the animal. Lara inwardly stiffened, gripping her axe as she walked towards the sounds. Shrieks, more like.

She saw a woman, standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking the forest. Her back was bare, painted with brown markings. She wore furs and leathers with a sword on her side. A Daughter.

_“They are wary of stranger and kill on sight.”_

Well... this one didn’t have a bow, so maybe...

Lara cleared her throat, throwing a tentative, “H-hello?”

The woman tensed, stopping mid-screech to veer around and stare at her through squinted eyes. “...Two-legs,” she croaked. “Why did you interrupt me?”

It took a second for Lara’s brain to process what the woman meant by ‘two-legs’. Her lips pursed, feeling the other woman’s suspicion radiate from where she stood. Exactly like the wolves she was calling. “I heard you...”

Her face lit up just as suddenly. “Can you help me?”

Lara quirked an eyebrow. What a whiplash of a woman. “I... uh,” she cleared her throat - maybe this was her way in. “I can tr—”

“My friends,” she cut her off, launching into an animated tirade about how her friends – wolves, from what Lara had gathered – had been captured and howled for her help. The archeologist looked at her with round eyes the whole time, slipping in hums and convincing, sympathetic nods. “... Which is why I need you,” she finished in a breath.

“I don’t kno—”

“Please, Two-legs,” she reached behind her, unknotting a piece of cloth to hand it to Lara with a smile. “Wear this. They won’t attack you if they smell it.”

She didn’t really have a choice, did she? “Do I have to kill the men?” it would be best if Lara could avoid drawing more attention to her.

The other woman shrugged. “The wolves will, if you don’t.”

Hopefully, they wouldn’t maw her too in the process. Lara walked in the direction of the camps. She had seen enough of them while traveling with Kassandra. They usually steered away when they were together, though the other woman would ‘borrow’ from them at night, if needed.

The tree logs were high, their ends shaped in pikes. She could climb but getting on the other side undetected once she reached the top would be complicated. Especially in broad daylight. The woman crouched, walking around the camp until she found an opening she could wriggle into.

As soon as she lifted her head, Lara came face to snoot with a snarling wolf.

Just her luck.

“Shh,” she fingered the lock, looking around frantically to see if anyone had noticed. The high herbs were a good cover, but if the animal kept growling, a guard was bound to come check. Lara stopped midway in forcing the lock to take the cloth she had been given. “Friend, see?” she muttered, leaving the wolf to take a long sniff at it. “I’m a friend.”

_Please, work. Please, work_.

The growling stopped, the wolf’s eyes turning from suspicious to curious. It sniffed her palm next, for a little while before pacing in its small cell and completely ignoring her.

Lara could live with that. It had gone better than all her previous encounters combined. She unlocked the door, leaving it half open and sneaked her way from cage to cage until the entire pack was free.

Wolves were smart creatures, she remembered. Neither attacked until the alpha jumped at the throat of the first guard that passed its open cell. Growls mingled with surprised cries. Lara didn’t intervene, she didn’t need to. The wolves rose like one beast, all howls and snarls, wreaking havoc within the camp for several, agonizing minutes until all that remained were gored corpses.

The alpha, the first wolf she had freed, gave her another long look before trotting outside, soon followed by the pack.

That was as much a ‘thank you’ as she was going to get.

* * *

 

She had pictured this encounter many times in her head, had thought of everything she would want to tell him. Everything she wanted to apologize for. Kassandra had run many scenarios, alternate conversation openers, weighed her options, compared outcomes. She had been readying herself in case she met him again.

And yet, despite the vast array of carefully crafted choices her brain could pick from, it settled on a mortifying one:

“Your hair is longer.”

She hadn’t meant to say that. Really, she hadn’t.

Silence filled the space between them until Brasidas’ laugh boomed, a low rumble that rose loud in the tavern.

Kassandra hadn’t forgotten its sound, not even after two thousand years.

“Months at war, months at sea,” he shrugged, fingering the ends of it, just shy of shoulder length. “You know how it is.”

He was smiling so big. Probably as big as her now. “I do,” she gestured at his ragged clothing. “A fisherman? Really?” the originally white chiton was greyed by dust, dotted with dried crimson stains left by fish guts. A helot. Unremarkable.

Perfect.

Brasidas leaned back in his seat. “I’m still a spy,” even during his leave. Even here, in his birthplace.

Kassandra’s brow creased with her frown. “Is Sparta in danger?”

She had learned early on that keeping an eye out for the leaders of the world was just as important as taking out Assassins or Templars. The incessant chess match was exhausting and always assured to leave her with a horrendous migraine. She envied Alkibiades’ ability to weave his way through both sides, making friends of foes, lighting fuses with a flirty smile and those smoldering blue eyes that held incandescent promises. One of the biggest turncoats she had ever met; and a dearest friend.

Fiercely loyal to her, oddly enough. Till the end.

The woman felt a tinge of guilt, playing dumb for Brasidas’ sake. The Eagle Bearer did not concern herself with politics, sides or consequences. For now, all that mattered to her was finding Myrinne, freeing Alexios and wiping the Cult out of Greece.

Ignorance was truly a blessing.

“It always is, with the war. The Kings are growing restless, Boeotia...” he peered around the tavern, still empty, though patrons were tickling in slowly. They would have to leave, soon. Brasidas sighed, then shook his head, another grin tugging at his lips when their eyes met. “It’s good to see you, Kassandra.”

There was a but, here, somewhere, loud and clear. She knew he wanted to ask her, but modesty was as much a part of him as his love for Sparta.

She gave him a nod. Consent. Honesty.

He emptied his drink first, eyes drifting fleetingly from her to the nook and crannies of the table. “Word has it the Wolf died in Megaris, years ago.”

Kassandra hummed. 

He was a perceptive man. Always had. “It is said that the Eagle Bearer did it,” low whispers, as he leaned forward, staring, asking.

_Who would you choose_ , she looked back at him, face carefully neutral when the thought formed in her head. _Sparta, or me?_

“Nikolaos is gone,” she said. She had no idea whether Kassandra had let him live like she had. She couldn’t incriminate herself, but considering her impact on the present, the very fact that she was in Sparta right now... it was a possibility, even if it had happened before her arrival in Greece. Maybe the Eagle had killed the Wolf who had raised her. Who had thrown her to her death. “That’s all I can tell you.”

Brasidas didn’t look surprised. She had expected a frown, an eye-twitch, judgment, maybe even a fleeting sneer, at worst. Patricide was already bad on its own but in Sparta, it meant death, even for a ghost like her. He knew it too, and yet, here he was, fraternizing with his nation’s enemy. 

“Generals are not happy,” he conceded. “His son isn’t happy.”

Her scowl was instant; Kassandra couldn’t care less about any of them. Especially Stentor. But she had a mission to complete. “Another reason why my presence here should be kept a secret,” she winked at his perplexed face. “We wouldn’t want to anger his son, now would we?”

His son. Not her half-brother.

Brasidas was Spartan through and through, but he didn’t like unnecessary bloodshed. If the news spread that Nikolaos’ alleged killer (and literal daughter) was in Sparta, of all places, there would be fights. He could talk the other generals out of it, but Stentor wouldn’t listen, bullheaded as he was. Loyal to the man who raised him, gave him a roof and a _pater_ to look up to.

He wouldn’t survive the confrontation, Brasidas was sure of it. They both knew.

Kassandra had killed him the first time; his abrasive nature had peeved her from the very first time they met in Megaris. Wagging his tail and puffing his chest, galvanized, reaping the merit of a victory _she_ had given him. She hadn’t felt particularly violent, that day in Boeotia, but Stentor’s impudence coupled with the punch he had given Kassandra weeks prior had burnt through her self-restraint like oil. If the Eagle Bearer harbored just a fraction of her feelings towards him, he would die again, right there. Humiliated in front of his men, like the mutt he was.

She didn’t care.

“I will keep your secret.” Brasidas said. Kassandra nodded, grateful. She could hear him think, though. He asked another question, one she wasn’t sure she could answer: “How are you?”

* * *

 

The Daughters were an odd bunch.

Lara’s integration within their ranks hadn’t been as rough as she would have thought. It hadn’t been smooth sailing either - being held at knife point, flaming arrows raining down on her, and the bears... How did they even tame bears?

She had expected to be ambushed; one didn’t roam sacred lands without repercussions. That had been part of the plan Kassandra and her had settled on, when they were in Phokis. What she hadn’t expected was the sheer number of the Daughters, coming from all places, suspicious frowns and bows at the ready. Strong women, some even taller and bulkier than Kassandra, holding maces made of bones and metal. Lethal.

By then, Lara had been too exhausted to run. This game of hide-and-seek was bound to end; one way or another. She had thrown her bow at her feet and one of the axes with the wild hope that it would stop them from killing her.

It hadn’t. Not until a pathfinder had come running and urging them to stop.

“That’s the two-legs who saved the wolves!” she’d yelled, shrieks just as high-pitched as they had been when she had been ‘howling’.

The other warriors had looked at Lara then, a mix of incredulity and bewilderment in their eyes, weapons held high and tight still. It wasn’t till another woman weaved her way out of the small crowd to stand in front of her that she saw them lower their swords and spears.

“Is that true?” the woman had asked, clear eyes boring into hers. “Did you free the wolves yourself?”

Lara had gulped. The other woman was slightly taller and more built, but it was the quiet confidence she exuded that made her seem a lot more imposing.

Their leader, there was no doubt about it.

She could only nod, thoughts racing in her mind; Kassandra’s words and the threatening picture Lara had drawn in her head clashing with the person in front of her. She had expected something else, entirely.

A tilt of the head, lips tugging upwards, a smile barely there. “Artemis must have guided you here.”

_No._

“Yes,” she breathed out. “The Goddess must have,” Lara hoped to God that she sounded convincing enough.

The quirked eyebrow made her heart hammer wildly in her ribcage. Then: “You know of our ways?” Lara nodded. “And yet you came here. You risked your life.”

_I had to._

“Yes.”

The woman had given her a long look, but the quiet appraisal didn’t make her feel awkward like she had expected. The smile ghosting her lips hadn’t left, if anything, it had grown. “Come.”

That was two months ago.

And since then Lara realized that sheltered or not, the Daughters' third favorite activity after hunting and praying was staring and gossiping about their new, shiny almost-addition and her oversized bow. 

Their words, not hers.

It was like boarding school all over again. She wasn’t exactly an outcast, not part of a clique either. As per their rules, she wasn’t a Daughter yet, but an apprentice, until Daphnae deemed she had learned enough. It was taking a while, Lara floated between people and huts, joining the surprisingly chatty huntresses during their hunts, listening to their quiet talks around the campfires at night until they finally invited her to join them.

The dreaded day came, when they started asking _her_ questions.

_Where are you from?_

_How did you find us?_

_Do you see the Goddess in your dreams, too?_

_“_ Are you the one they call the Daughter of Hephaistos?”

Lara’s head whipped around, coming face to face with Melete’s inquisitive grey eyes. “What?”

She had been the first one to talk to her, the second one to smile at her (after Daphnae). Melete couldn’t be older than eighteen, maybe twenty and had quite literally attached herself to Lara’s side as soon as the archeologist was tacitly allowed at the campfires.

She wriggled closer to Lara, looking around quickly before whispering. “I heard...” she began, small puffs of air tickling the archeologist’s ear. The other woman tried to pull away, discreetly. “I heard Agneta talk earlier...”

_Crap._

Agneta, the giant huntress who might have been in Delos when she and Kassandra split the sky in two and rained fire on Spartan ships. Agneta who had seen it all. Agneta whose scorn and stares were making _a lot_ more sense now.

“...and she said that it was you,” Melete continued. Lara was already opening her mouth, ready to lie her teeth out about this, but the young woman kept talking. “She said you beat the Eagle Bearer.”

Whew.

“I... w-what?”

Only then did she recognize the light in those grey eyes. They were sparkling with admiration and barely contained enthusiasm. “Did you?” she squeezed her arm, not noticing how Lara flinched at the contact. “You fought her?”

“N—”

“Of course, she did,” Agneta had been eavesdropping, because of course she had. She was staring (glaring?) at her from across the fire. “That maláka has been running her mouth, looking for you,” she flicked her hair with those huge fingers and tsked. “From Melos to Euboea with that cursed ship of hers,” she scoffed. “Adrestia. Who in their right mind would call a ship Adrestia?”

_She who cannot be escaped._

_Fitting…_ she thought. Kassandra had a knack for choosing names, that’s for sure. Lara’s eyes narrowed when she replayed Agneta’s words in her head again. It didn’t make sense; she expected the Eagle Bearer to lick her wounds somewhere after their fight, and then resume her chase silently. Why make such a ruckus that even the Daughters of Artemis knew about what happened? Didn’t mercenaries care about reputation?

Unless... she wanted to draw her mark out. Or hoped it would be enough for them to kill her? Agneta’s glare hadn’t budged, but her lips stretched upwards slowly. A smile. A grin, even, to Lara’s utter amazement. “You did good.”

Well. She hadn’t expected that one.

“I didn’t mean to...” not really.

“You should have killed her,” another Daughter said, followed by hums and nods from the huntresses sitting around the campfire. Lara was starting to feel ill-at-ease. “She deserves death for what she did.”

She saw a few of them shake their heads, whispers rising in unanimous agreement.

“She didn’t do anything,” it was Melete who had spoken, drawing curious looks and a few gasps.

“She humiliated Daphnae,” the same woman sneered, scars stretching with her snarl. “She shamed all of us. She went against the Goddess’ wishes. Against our law,” her voice rose. “You call that doing nothing?”

Lara was completely lost, looking back and forth between them, privy to a conversation she shouldn’t be listening to. The air was thick with tension, scornful faces meeting scowls and silent, judgmental stares. It didn’t bode well.

Melete shook her head, standing her ground. She was young, younger than most of them, but she never backed down. “It’s not what I’m saying,” her hand left Lara’s arm to wave around. “The Eagle Bearer never belonged here to begin with. She was never interested in learning our ways. Would you have accepted her lead?”

More gasps and quiet curses followed. The young huntress winced, realizing too late what she had said out loud.

“We do not speak of this! How dare you?” the other retorted and sprung to her feet, striding towards them. “Shut your mouth!” she grabbed Melete by her leathers, pulling her up roughly. “How dare you?!”

This was getting out of control. Kassandra had been right; the simple mention of her name had made things escalate and opened the proverbial can of worms. Lara had no idea what was happening, but she wasn’t going to let Melete get roughed up for speaking, ranks be damned. She reacted quickly and stood up.

“Hey,” she inserted herself into the confrontation and grabbed the other huntress by the wrist. “Let her go,” she squeezed, hard enough to warn but not bruise. The woman’s eyes flickered back to her. “Please.”

“She mu—”

“Please,” Lara repeated. There was no need for a brawl now. She didn’t want to fight, but she didn’t want Melete to get hurt either. She was just a kid. “Don’t.”

They shared a long look. She didn’t waver, she wasn’t angry. They didn’t need to fight. They didn’t. Lara hoped her eyes were conveying this.

The huntress eventually let go, after another bout of stare down, almost pushing Melete to the ground, had it not been for Lara catching her. “Thank you,” the young woman said.

They went back to their respective sitting place in silence, the tension was still palpable, and Melete slipped out after ten minutes, drawing a sigh of relief from Lara. The Daughters kept throwing her looks once she was alone, but those held none of the suspicion of the first days.

Esteem.

Respect.

Approval.

She didn’t linger either.

-0-

 

It wasn’t until two nights later, as Lara was walking back to her small hut after a quick wash in the ice-cold river that Melete caught up with her. “I got wild berries,” she smiled, big and childlike, waving her leather _skeuos_. “I think they will go well with the _sideritis_ you keep drinking.”

Kassandra had given her a pouchful of the herb, in case she needed it. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, even after Lara argued that it was way too much. The archaeologist had taken on having a cup every night as a little memorabilia.

Lara missed her. There was no point in pretending she didn’t.

It was odd being here, but it was even weirder being here without Kassandra around. Her little anthropological discoveries; the wonders of living in the wild among the Daughters of Artemis; their in-depth knowledge of nature and animals... she had absolutely no one to share that with. Lara had blackened page after page of notes in her journal, but it didn’t feel the same. Pages stayed mute. Pages didn’t smile, didn’t talk or give her a playful nudge to bring her back when Lara was lost in her head. They didn’t joke.

She had taken on blackening the pages with more than words, though. Little sketches of Kassandra here and there. Memorabilia, as well. Just a few quick drawings, when she couldn’t sleep. Those she would keep to herself.

(She had done the same with Amelia when she realized she couldn’t remember her face or how her dimple fluttered when she smiled. With Richard too, to cleanse her mind of the flashes of his death. Roth, Grim, Alex, Unuratu...)

Blinking back to the present, Lara nodded at the young woman, letting her settle down on the rug and pillows at the center of the hut while she went outside to boil water. She came back a few minutes later with a steaming clay pot, leaving the veil up to allow the glow of the firelight to filter through.

“Thank you,” Melete said, looking sheepish and small. “For last time. I didn’t mean to upset everyone...”

The joys of living in community.

Lara poured the hot water in a small cup with leaves and offered it to her. “I don’t think they were angry with you,” she gave her a sympathetic smile, but the huntress’ shoulders still sagged.

“I know that, it’s just...” she sighed, cradling the warm cup in her hands. As per Lara’s instructions (and a horrified gasp) the first night they had shared a cup of tea, Melete wasn’t drinking right away this time. Infusion time was sacred. “I remember... how Daphnae was when the Eagle Bearer came here. I was just coming of age. I wasn’t a child anymore. I remember,” she frowned at the cup. “She didn’t know. She didn’t know our ways. It’s not her fault,” her voice rose a little when she lifted her head, waving briskly to the outside with her hand. “And they know it too, you know. They just won’t admit it, but they’re relieved.”

Lara was blowing on her cup and stopped right away to glance at her. “Relieved?”

Upset, angry, vengeful, yes. But relieved?

Melete smiled, as if remembering something. “You don’t know either,” she tugged a strand of blond hair behind her ear, wriggling closer, still. “The Eagle Bearer was Daphnae’s chosen champion. She passed Artemis’ tests,” there was an odd shine in her eyes when she spoke. “I was very little when it started, but Daphnae was always so happy when she came back, every time with a new pelt for the Goddess,” the young woman took a sip, rolling it around her tongue before nodding approvingly. “She wouldn’t let anyone look until she laid it in the temple. Said she had found someone worthy of Artemis, but it would take time until she was ready.”

The way she spoke of it... of them…

“It took years. By then, I was almost a Daughter myself. But she did, she came here just a couple of months after Daphnae. We had spent weeks preparing the rituals, the offerings. Everything was ready,” there was a crease near the side of her lip as she chewed on it. “We were all there when Daphnae gave her the last challenge, the last test…” her eyes went down, flickering from the cup to the fire outside. “She refused. She said she couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t.”

There weren’t many things Kassandra couldn’t do, Lara mused. Her mouth opened, ready to ask more questions, but Melete spoke first.

“Daphnae insisted,” she said. “It is the will of the Goddess. The champion must fight her for leadership…”

Lara’s eyes widened.

_Did you try to kill her lover, too?_

“Or die.”

_Sometimes, I wish I had._

The hiccup caught in her throat, she felt it constrict around the words she had wanted to speak.

It was a joke; she hadn’t meant anything by it. A simple joke. Kassandra had been serious. She would have died, with no way to come back. Had been ready to.

Daphnae.

Lara had heard her whispering the name, mind caught in the limbo between sleep and awareness.

Daphnae.

The reason why neither her nor the Eagle Bearer would dare set foot in here.

Daphnae.

The one who had rooted herself in Kassandra’s heart, spreading like vines, a cell as much as a comfort, for the last two thousand five hundred years. 

Daphnae.

The only other one who - like Lara - was floating around the camp, never staying long, never straying. Always gone, but whose presence lingered in the Daughters’ minds, in their talks, their knowing looks.

_Daphnae._

“She was in love,” the words felt redundant coming from her mouth. Forbidden, somehow.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” Melete nodded. “But they were,” her eyes narrowed in a squint, trying to remember. “Daphnae couldn’t do it either... she...” Lara saw her tongue poking out to wet her lips. “She went against Iokaste’s commands. Against our law when she told her to leave and never come back.”

Lara’s first instinct was to side with them and curse whatever archaic dogma had decided the two women couldn’t just live their lives in peace. But something else caught her attention, “Who is Iokaste?” she was sure she hadn’t met or heard of someone named like that in the camp.

Melete blinked in surprise. “An elder. Lives in the fort by the cliff, north of here,” her eyes sparkled. “She tamed lions from Messara and brought them here, can you believe it?”

Wolves, bears and now lions... “I can, actually.”

The huntress grinned, catching on her sarcasm. It faltered a couple of seconds later, replaced by silence as she pondered her words. Lara saw the frown, the way her teeth chewed at her bottom lip. She wanted to say something, something forbidden.

It took a full minute for the words to finally come out. “I wouldn’t have either,” she winced as soon as it was out, shoulders squared and head held down by guilt. Like a pet waiting to be grounded.

“I understand,” Lara smiled at her, allowing the pads of Melete’s fingers to run and squeeze her arm for comfort. She didn’t flinch this time; lost in her head as she added, “I, uh... I don’t know if I would be able to kill someone I care about.”

Sam’s face flashed before her eyes. What would have happened had Himiko finished the ritual? Had Lara been too late? Could she have pulled the trigger on her friend? On Sam? The one she had lost herself for? The one whose bubbly demeanor and cheerful laugh she couldn’t live without? The one who had seen past the reclused orphan who hugged the walls at school and showed her that there was more to life than dusty old books in even dustier libraries?

It’s not something Lara ever wanted to think about. Losing Roth had felt like losing a limb. Even years later, his presence still lingered. The phantom sensation of his gruff laugh in her ears, or the memories of how his eyes crinkled at the edges when he’d looked at her on graduation day.

He’d snapped the picture of the two friends, grinning, holding each other with their diploma in the other hand.

_“I’m proud of you, kid. Richard and Amelia would be, too.”_

She fingered her pendant.

No. There was absolutely no way Lara could have done it. She would rather have scarified herself than live with that kind of guilt.

And she wasn’t even in love with Sam. Kassandra and Daphnae...

Kassandra especially. Two thousand fiv—she didn’t see it coming.

The kiss.

It was as abrupt as it was quick. Something clumsy that had caught the corner of her lips but left no ambiguity.

Lara tensed, reigning on her reflexes to jerk away and punch. She stayed there, stiff as a board, unblinking eyes drifting from Melete’s eyes to her lips. “Uh...”

“Sorry,” the huntress pulled away. “I just... I... I thought...” she cleared her throat.

The following stuttering match between them would have made any onlooker roll down with laughter. Lara flailed awkwardly in place, waving her hands in a poor attempt to placate Melete who hunched over herself and would have made a run for it, had it not been for Lara stopping her halfway.

“Wait!” she spoke breathlessly, her hand clasped on the other’s wrist to keep her seated. “Wait, please,” she let go of it, shifting so that they would be face to face. “It’s okay,” nodding along as she added, “I didn’t... I wasn’t expecting...”

Dense as a brick, as Sam would say. She wasn’t going to argue.

Melete was still sheepish, refusing to meet her gaze. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have...”

“It’s okay,” Lara repeated. “Really, it’s alright.”

The other woman’s brow creased. There were many ways to describe a kiss, but alright definitely fell into the ‘never again’ category. “You... didn’t like it,” her cheeks flared as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

The archeologist flushed bright red. “I—”

“Is it because I’m a woman?” despite the embarrassment plaguing her, Melete still managed to ask. “Artemis favors us, you know...”

Red hair, a splash of freckles, pale skin and the most beautiful walleyes she had ever seen. One hazel and one blue, narrowed in a squint every time she poured over a manual. Smoldering kisses under a tree, away from the tennis court. Later that day, in the safety of their dorm with the cicadas as witness. Supple planes and soft skin. Moans, muffled, whispered in a female voice when Lara’s clumsy fingers explored the flesh of another woman’s breasts for the first time.

_“Like that?”_

Lip trapped between teeth, followed by breathless laughter. _“Yes, Lara,”_ a kiss on her cheek, and low murmurs. _“Like that.”_

“No,” the archeologist croaked, red-cheeked by embarrassment, feeling the heat spread from her chest, and then lower, suddenly awakened. Throbbing. “No, no. It’s not that.”

She hadn’t thought about her in so long... of that summer without Roth to take her on the Endurance, without Sam, gone back to Japan for family functions. The first week alone. Then, Alison. The upperclassman whose smile and eyes always strayed on her somehow.

Lara hadn’t noticed. Sam had.

_“Bitch please. She has a big, fat crush on you,”_ she’d said, during breakfast, on a snowy morning, as she shoveled her cereals. _“Or… she wants to stab you.”_

Lara hadn’t been impressed. “ _No, she doesn’t,”_ scowling at her friend before chancing a look behind her. Right on cue, Alison’s head whipped down. Half a second later, she pretended to join her friends' animated discussion. Lara frowned and turned back around.

_“Told you,”_ Sam was grinning from ear to ear, cereal bowl forgotten, eyes trained on Alison, closing in on her like a camera lens. _“I’m sure she would take off her shirt if you asked her.”_

_“Sam!”_

As it turned out, six months later, Lara hadn’t even needed to ask.

She swallowed thickly, shaking her head to drag her mind back from its lubricious haven. Really now, this wasn’t the time for her body to remember it had a libido and dig it up from whatever limbo it had burrowed into. Her brain swatted at it like an annoying mosquito buzzing about near her ear. Elusive, but clearly there. _Off with you. Go away._

Come back in a few years, or so.

“Are you…” Melete’s voice drew her out of her musings. She was squinting at her again, worrying at her lip. “Are you spoken for?”

Lara’s mouth was already open, ready to say no and launch into the awkward ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ tirade that promised to destroy whatever budding friendship she fooled herself into thinking they had.

But the words didn’t come out. She stayed frozen in place, haphazard thoughts and frazzled emotions, flashes of twinkling hazel eyes and loud belly-laughs. Lara felt dizzy. Nauseous.

“I see…” the young huntress misunderstood her silence. She looked down at her hands, still cradling the now lukewarm cup. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

Lara was still rooted in place, blinking rapidly as if the sun was glaring at her. _Tell her the truth. Tell her_ , but her mouth categorically refused to obey. _Tell her!_

“I’m sorry,” was all she could manage.

-0-

 

The following morning saw Lara brooding alone, deep in the forest by the source of the stream which ran near the main camp. She had woken up in a foul mood after a restless sleep. The desire to be alone overpowering her guilt and wanting to apologize to Melete.

There was just too much to process, and no matter her rational mind, some things didn’t make sense. Kassandra had sent her here, knowing what would happen, what she would learn. The more she thought about it, the more Lara wished they had found another alternative. Being here was already awkward on its own, and yes, she was safe from harm, but at what cost?

A tangled mess of emotions and feelings she would rather ignore and the only friend she had managed to make was now avoiding her like the plague.

Wonderful.

For a second, the archeologist considered sneaking out of the camp until she remembered that she had no way of contacting Kassandra. She didn’t even know where the other woman was; she hadn’t said anything.

Lifting her head, Lara squinted up at the sky, half expecting an eagle to soar through the grey clouds looming above.

_She won’t come. They won’t._

“You’re being dramatic,” she muttered in English. “And speaking to yourself. Brilliant.”

“Lara?”

The archaeologist stiffened, twisting her body around. “Ye—oh...” Daphnae. “Hello.”

Of all people.

The huntress bowed her head, searching her eyes for a moment before smiling. “You did not join the hunt this morning...” she hummed as Lara’s guilty expression. “Are you well?”

Nope.

She could only nod, not trusting her mouth which had suddenly grown sentient since yesterday. “I just needed...” her hand motioned around limply.

Whatever she had meant by that, Daphnae seemed to understand, giving Lara a small nod before she approached and sat down next to her. They were silent for a while, listening to the gurgling of the stream, and the wind whispering through the leaves. Back in the present, autumn had always been her favorite season. The brisk mornings that announced winters, the scent of roasted chestnuts and mulled wine. Maybe if she closed her eyes and breathed deep enough, she could smell the cinnamon that always wafted off Winston’s apple pies.

“My Sisters like you,” there it was. The same tranquil assurance exuding from Daphnae from the first time they’d met. It had somehow quieted Lara’s raging thoughts, drifting off to something else entirely. Something uncomplicated.

Daphnae was good at this Lara realized. Very good.

“Oh.”

The archeologist wondered what kind of moronic troll had taken possession of her mouth, lately. This needed to stop.

The huntress turned her head to face her. “If your intent is to stay among us,” her eyes held an edge, though it was anything but threatening. “Then, we will begin the rituals for your anointment. Soon.” she knew. “You will become a Daughter once you pledge your life to the Goddess,” Daphnae knew, the young woman was sure of it. “Do you understand?”

_No escape. No return._

“Yes.”

Something odd happened after that. Her face morphed; the sure eyes that had been boring into Lara’s turned hesitant, flickering downward quickly. Her hands clammy, skittish with nerves. She closed them into fists. “You...” the huntress started, closed her mouth, then opened it again. No sound came out and Daphnae shook her head. “Thank you,” she breathed out, voice holding none of the assurance it previously had. “For sparing her life.”

She didn’t leave Lara enough time to process her words, shooting up to her feet and walking away, disappearing just as abruptly as she had appeared.

* * *

 

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

She’d had someone handpicked, ready for the position. Someone she could control. Someone the Cult could control.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

Iokaste had prepared everything to give the Daughters the illusion of choice while she put her pawn in place. It had taken years of careful grooming. Steering, gentle nudging in the right direction. Years. But she was a Daughter, and they were nothing if not patient.

She had made Deimos with the same care and ruthlessness. Had fed words to the Pythia of Delphi, convinced Chrysis to take him, raise him, shape him in the name of the Cult. Dread, he had become.

All thanks to her.

A necessary evil. Ordered chaos the Cult could unleash wherever it pleased. She wasn’t a worshipper, she thrived in secularity. Religion, Gods, beliefs, dogmas, they were a means to an end. The weapons she wielded with disconcerting ease. She wasn’t a Sage for nothing.

The next step, as per the Ghost’s suggestion had been to seize control over the Daughters. Iokaste didn’t want to get involved, she worked best in the shadows, puppeteering weak-minded leaders. The Daughters were to choose a new leader after the death of the last one. Old age, mind you. There was no need for poison when time only had to run its course.

Something went wrong though.

An emerging figure she hadn’t accounted for. Daphnae. Warrior like no other. Huntress of the wild. Devout to Artemis. Unwavering.

And chaste.

Iokaste’s pick didn’t have a chance against that, having led her life as she had seen fit. Had married and raised children before she ‘heard’ the call of the Goddess in her dreams and turned her life upside down. Her best coercion techniques hadn’t worked; somehow, the Daughters had all chosen Daphnae. All Iokaste’s efforts amounted to nothing. Years reduced to ashes because of a virginal flower.

Her lions feasted on the other Daughter that night.

Daphnae’s dedication made her impossible to manipulate. Iokaste had known it from the start, hadn’t even tried. She’d had a better idea. To use that same devotion against the devotee.

Daphnae wouldn’t be able to refuse. Couldn’t.

And, as expected, she hadn’t. The newly appointed leader had jumped right into her trap, feet first, eager to prove herself to Artemis.

Eager to die for her beliefs. Foolish girl.

It did take time. Years.

And by some ironic twist of fate, the one she had chosen, the one who was to take her place, was the lost child of the Cult. Iokaste’s eyes had shined with malice upon hearing the news. Kassandra. The other half who, with her brother, could have given the World to the Cult. She had been Iokaste’s first choice, above Alexios. But most of the other Sages, brash, fragile men with fragile egos, had preferred the infant. Male. Powerful. Stupid.

It would come full circle. The Cult would have both of the dreadful siblings to do with as it pleased. Bring the Peloponnesian War to an end and then, sell Greece to Persians.

Except that didn’t work either.

Where Deimos had been shaped to follow orders – plant the seed that it was his own idea and he would follow you to Tartaros and back – Kassandra was unruly, too free-spirited and emotional.

A demigod pretending to be a mere mortal. What a waste.

Iokaste had wanted to kill both of them that day. Could have. She had waited years, too long for this to crash and burn. Adding insult to injury, Daphnae’s influence over the Daughters all but increased. They already admired her tenacity, her unwavering faith but her stupid, stillborn love story with the Eagle Bearer had stirred her Sisters’ sympathy and cemented her position.

She had chosen them over her own happiness. They would never forget it.

There was no other solution but to kill her. Dread would come to set everything ablaze, reduce her and her sisters to ashes for defying Iokaste.

Oh, he would come. Like the nice little puppet he was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun.
> 
> Tweaked Survivor Timeline a little in Tomb Raider; Sam and Lara met at boarding school (like in the original survivor timeline before the devs crapped over it) and Lara got into the altercation with the other girl at 12 instead of 9, originally. Also; that Ladies' college does not give cooking classes. Don't go looking it up. 
> 
> Lara's mom was a painter, so Lara learning how to sketch would be a way for her to feel closer to her. Also as an archeologist, she'd need to have some notions so... I didn't pull it out thin air, I promise. 
> 
> TR2013's original ending had Sam as the final boss instead of Mathias. It didn't do well with the sample test of gamers because they felt their efforts throughout the game weren't rewarded at the end. It was changed last minute. 
> 
> First concepts art for Brasidas had him with longer hair before they settled on "generic Spartan haircut" you can look it up. I thought it was nice and it'd make for an interesting way for him to change appearances when needed :)
> 
> Thank you to Rhidia for planting the seed about Melete's little crush. :)


	13. Chapitre Treize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, last time I was telling you about how I update every two or three weeks and... well I jinxed it. :) A little. 
> 
> I was really apprehensive about last chapter being solely Lara-focused and the response was out of this world; I'm amazed, thank you to all of you who took the time to write a few words to tell me you liked it, your words are heartwarming and they keep me going! Thank you for kudo-ing and suscribing, and thank you to the shy readers out there ;) There are so many of you out here engaging with me and all, it's a milestone I never thought I'd reach. Thanks a bunch.
> 
> Another warm thank you to my awesome beta who took the time to make very insightful suggestions and turn my shameful English into something readable. You can thank them, because they really deserve it. :D
> 
> This chapter is like, 99% Kassandra, hope you don't mind. 
> 
> I have notes at the bottom, related to the chapter, but again, if you're not interested, just skip them. Also, just putting it out here because it was brought up a couple of times: this fic isn't exactly historically accurate, I took some liberties (namely, the agoge thing and Kassandra possibly having a claim to Sparta's throne in chapter 11 or how women have a bigger role here) with it because otherwise there would be no story. I also use the modern/gregorian calendar instead of the festival one Ancient Greeks used to avoid confusing myself - and you - with timelines. 
> 
> Skeuos is a bag
> 
> Eudaemons are the equivalent of guardian angels in Greek Mythology. They're demons, but good demons?

 

Kassandra had never been in Brasidas’ home. 

She knew that he fared well for himself, considering his status and how King Archidamos drank his words and ate from his hand, she had imagined the man to get something decently sized. 

She hadn’t pictured the two-story house, complete with private baths _inside_ the property, though. Chloris greeted her when they stepped inside the open garden. Akonitons, poppies, melias were spread in colorful and vibrant flower beds under Kassandra’s feet.

The woman whistled lowly. Even in her more lavish years, she hadn’t indulged like _that_. Her eyes strayed on the amaranths, lips tugging in a rueful smile. 

_Eternal life..._

Brasidas rubbed his neck. “What is it?” 

Her quirked eyebrow did nothing to alleviate his awkwardness. She waved around them, her arm drawing a wide arc. “Fancy, _General_.”

He scoffed, leading her to one of the bigger rooms. More riches greeted her, though she kept her mouth shut this time. This one probably doubled as a symposium. “It’s my family home, Kassandra,” he gave her a nervous smile.

Right. 

It hit her then; Brasidas’ parents had died a while ago. There was no need for him to leave the proverbial nest. Even if he wasn’t married.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, offering him a genuine smile. Really, it was. A large property. Definitely too big for one person, she figured he knew it too. 

His eyes crinkled, assessing her for a second before he bowed his head in thanks, hands clasped behind his back. “The credits go to Hypatia,” his head tilted towards another room “This house wouldn’t be standing without her.”

On cue, as if summoned from a dusty closet, a small woman with frazzled grey hair and back hunched by age appeared. Her steps were quick, almost gliding on the ground. Kassandra watched in awe as she lifted her head, the suspicious squint of her black eyes bringing up the crows’ feet at the edges. Kassandra’s brows creased in a light frown; the old woman resembled a tortoise in almost every aspect. It was uncanny.

Hypatia turned to Brasidas.

“This one is big,” her wrinkled hand probed Kassandra’s covered arm. “And strong,” she stepped forward, her head almost burrowing in the other woman’s cloak. “Good hips.” Brasidas’ face was already dissolving. He opened his mouth, but it was too late. “She will give you strong children.”

He cringed and jammed his eyes shut, enduring the awkward silence until Kassandra barked a laugh. 

“I thank you for the...” she trailed off; the grin stretching as she winked at his crestfallen face. “Compliments,” and bowed her head. 

The other woman nodded approvingly. “Introduce me,” she swatted Brasidas’ arm. “You savage. Where are your manners? Your poor mother would unleash Cerberos on you, if she knew!”

He threw her a look before giving up altogether and gesturing limply. The most feared general across all Greece reduced to an obedient little boy by an old woman twice as small as him. “Kassandra, this is Hypatia.” 

“A pleasure,” she bowed again to the other who was still craning her neck, inspecting Kassandra from head to toe. 

“Are you Spartan?” the question held all the finesse and refinement of a charging bull. It took her aback.

Hazel eyes drifted to Brasidas, quickly. “Maybe?”

There was another suspicious squint thrown behind her, at the bow and staff on her back. “A sell sword,” it didn’t sound like a question and was quickly followed by barely contained tsking. “Your poor mother...” she grumbled, hunching away just as abruptly.

Yep. A tortoise.

“...I think she likes me,” Kassandra smirked when they were alone.

Brasidas’ shoulders sagged with a sigh, but her joke was still enough to lift his spirits up from the haze of shame the encounter had left him. “She will come around, eventually,” he guided her upstairs. “She can be irritable, but I trust her.”

“A helot?”

He shook his head, offering her a smile. “I freed her when I came of age. She refuses to leave.” 

Kassandra chuckled. “Probably for the best.”

Brasidas hummed, walking them towards one of the (far too many, in Kassandra’s opinion) guest rooms. That one had an actual bed and a window that gave a view straight into the gymnasium nearby.

Perfect. 

She could sneak in and out undetected. 

“Thank you,” she said, looking sheepish as she removed her hood when he turned around. “I won’t stay long, I promise.”

“Nonsense,” he snorted and tilted his head. “You can stay for as long as you want, Kassandra,” Brasidas walked them back downstairs a few moments later. “I have matters to attend with the Kings, but I shall be here for dinner...” realizing what he was implying, the man quickly added. “If you would like to join me. And Hypatia, of course.”

Modest as usual. 

Kassandra found it comforting for some reason. She always had issues with Spartan men. Strong headed, and choleric when they weren’t downright malákes. Fools, blinded by their love for a Kingdom that wouldn’t think twice about killing them all if it meant winning a stupid war. And for what? More land? More power? Strength? Glory? A place in Elysium? 

She had always regarded Sparta’s brutal expansion warily. How the Kings used brilliant minds like Brasidas’ to further what was, in fine, another metaphorical dick contest. For sure, Athens wasn’t perfect, but at least they _tried_. Democracy, philosophy... the modern world was shaped by and with them, while monarchies fought like emaciated dogs to stay in their corner of the spotlight, far and forgotten, like an afterthought. 

Kassandra smiled at him, forcing her mind to steer away from the rabbit hole of existential thoughts it was teetering into. “I will be here.”

Impacts and consequences of divine monarchies throughout wars: from the Peloponnesian Era to the English Parliament. This would make for a nice discussion around a fire with...

 _Lara._  

She had managed not to think about the archeologist for most of the day since meeting with Brasidas this morning, and now here she was, back to square one.

Hopefully, the young woman was still breathing and not impaled on a tree or something. _Please, be alive._ Daphnae favored intimidation, she never killed uselessly, but Kassandra wouldn’t say the same of her sisters...

Something must have shown on her face, because she became acutely aware of how Brasidas was studying her. He opened his mouth, but she beat her to it. “You will be late. Archidamos doesn’t like to be left waiting, does he?”

He squinted, smiling softly. His eye was keen, the man had seen right through her deflection, she knew. “Indeed,” he bowed. “I will let you rest. Hypatia must have prepared the baths for you, should you need it.”

He really was laying it all. Kassandra smirked. “Won’t your horde of admirers get jealous?”

His booming laugh made her grin even wider. “Another reason why your presence here must be kept a secret?” it was his turn to wink at her. 

It wasn’t until she lay on the bed, freshly bathed and scrubbed that Kassandra realized how the trip to Sparta had taken its toll on her. The nights foregoing sleep to walk a few more kilometers, before she stole the mare, the rainy days of waddling through muddy paths and the evenings in caves had left their marks. Having no mirrors was both a blessing and a curse in this case, though Kassandra wondered just how frazzled she had looked upon walking into Sparta. No wonder people had gone the extra mile to avoid her. 

She only allowed herself a few hours of rest before jumping out of the window to check her mark’s house. 

As it turned out, Brasidas’ home was only a few minutes away from his. Kassandra took advantage of the evening sun, gliding from roof to roof with effortless jumps. Cries and insults rose from the gymnasium as she crossed it. Her eyes didn’t stray to look down, lest she saw something upsetting and would try to intervene. Myrrine’s stern scolding still rang in her ears from that time she had tried (and failed) to prevent those poor Spartan boys from getting mowed to death. 

_I was helping!_

_You dishonored them._

Sparta didn’t deserve the blood it spilled in the name of glory. Kassandra shook her head, powering across the roofs a little faster until she reached the general’s residence. Her eyes widened. Opulent and large, larger than Brasidas’ house; it wasn’t something she had expected. Flaunting riches under the joint reign of Archidamos and Pausanias was frowned upon, but this man didn’t seem to care. At least Brasidas’ looked unassuming until you stepped inside. This one reeked of overcompensation. 

And fear, if the four patrols walking the perimeter were any indication. Two imposing guards were flanked at each entrance. 

“Looks like someone needs protection...” she muttered. It couldn’t be all because of Lara. He was shielding himself from Sparta. Did he anger the Kings? Archidamos had a short fuse, true... “What are you hiding…”

Kassandra stayed put on the nearby roof. She observed the guards, making a mental note of their roundabouts, spotting the ones with wobbly knees or too exhausted to keep upright, when patrols were getting relieved, how long it took them to check the whole perimeter and how far up was the nearest window she could sneak through.

What would have taken a few minutes had Ikaros been here, took her a couple of hours. She made a point of returning before Selene was too high in the sky, to avoid Hypatia’s suspicious’ squint and scorn. 

It didn’t work. 

 

-0-

In another life, in another time, this would have been a great end to a pretty decent date. 

Except it was Brasidas in bed with her right now, not a very female person with womanly curves. The thought made Kassandra laugh out loud, spurred by the surprisingly sweet Delian wine in her system, already lulling her to let loose. 

“What?” Brasidas wasn’t faring any better. He had started slurring after the third cup. The smile easy on his lips, but it was the flushed cheeks that had clued Kassandra to his inebriated state. The amphora sat snuggled between them like an overgrown baby. His hand was wrapped around it.

They had retreated upstairs once they had finished eating. After spending a few minutes talking while standing awkwardly at the threshold of Kassandra’s room, she had huffed and tugged him inside by the hair so they could sit down.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she reached around for the plate of fruits and popped a grape in her mouth, delighting in the sweetness of it on her tongue. “I would think you were trying to seduce me with all that food.”

Brash and loud, his laugh echoed in the large room. “I would say Hypatia is,” he rubbed his beard. “She made everything, after all.”

“It was delicious, by the way,” she hadn’t had a meal like that since leaving Mykonos. “I will be sure to tell her tomorrow.”

He chuckled again, bringing the amphora to his lips. “You might get a smile from her, who knows.”

“There’s only one thing that would get her to smile and I think we both know what it is.” 

They shared a long look and guffawed, the amphora almost toppling over Kassandra. She caught it, bringing the rim to her lips while closing her eyes. 

This wine was _really_ good. 

“She doesn’t want to see me pay more taxes again,” he said, a little sheepish and smiled at Kassandra's muffled scoff. “That’s all.” 

She squinted at him behind the rim. Brasidas was a good person. Smart, caring and kind, he could make anyone happy. A proverbial good catch in the flesh. “I’m sure a lot of women are throwing themselves at your feet. Spartan _and_ otherwise. They wouldn’t mind shaving their head,” she finished, her tone clearly dry as she handed the amphora back. 

His smirk was sly. “Maybe,” they laughed again before he sobered up, his eyes losing a bit of their mirth. He took a moment before speaking again, “I would like to have children but…”

 _You will die_. 

Splashes of blood, a gash on his strong arm, the shield lying on the ground. Swinging his spear at Deimos, but it’s useless. He’s faster and grabs it. Kassandra sees it, she runs to them, she screams, screams but her cries die on the battlefield. She sees it all. The spear goes up, through his chin and skull. Brasidas’ face is aghast, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and watery in their surprise. The stunned rictus of death on his frozen features forever engraved in her mind. 

She screams. She screams but no one hears. 

“You’re a spy,” Kassandra said instead, eyes jammed shut for a second, shielding from the flashes of his brutal end.

She heard Brasidas hum in agreement. “Maybe when the war is over...”

_You will die before that._

“What about you?” he shifted his body, plopping himself on his elbow to watch her. 

“I’m not shaving my head for you, Brasidas,” her response was quick and light, but the bitter tinge the memories had left on her tongue refused to leave, no matter how many times she rolled it around in her mouth. Kassandra popped another grape but that didn’t help either.

“I would never dream of it,” he was grinning again, seemingly oblivious to her soured mood. “That would be a shame,” he added, fingers twitching as he gazed at the strands that had escaped the loose half-bun Kassandra had favored ever since her encounter with the Eagle Bearer. It was less conspicuous than a side braid. Less confusing for Lara, too. 

“Besides,” Kassandra doubled down for good measure. “I wouldn’t give my children to Sparta,” she forced a smile despite the gravity of her statement and its implications. “So that settles it,” she chuckled. “We’re not getting married.”

Sparta, whom House Agiad, her family, her blood, had sacrificed so much for. Sparta who had shunned her, tried to kill her, used her, only to shun her again. 

But Brasidas didn’t know that yet. 

“We’re not getting married,” he nodded, tearing his gaze away, reaching across her to grab an apple to munch on slowly. 

She laughed again. Marriage. What a stupid idea. “I don’t know the first thing about running an estate,” Kassandra mused out loud. She hadn’t gone to school with the other girls, Nikolaos had been talking with the elders to let her join the Agoge when she reached seven, arguing about wasted potential, Leonidas’ legacy and bringing glory to the kingdom, but she hadn’t gone either. “What would I do while you go around winning Sparta’s battles? Knit you a shroud?”

She winced. That was a very poor choice of words. 

But he didn’t know that either.

“Fight with me, of course!” Brasidas' laugh rose loud again, he nudged her shoulder and sighed after a while, his whole body deflating with the exhale. “You know,” he started again. “This isn’t really what I had in mind when I asked,” he scratched his cheek. “But now that this is settled, let me ask again. What about you?”

“What about me?” Kassandra asked back, a little confused. The wine was slowing her thought-process to abysmal proportions and making her talk too much. It had been a few centuries since she’d last indulged like this.

His smile wasn’t as shy when he looked up at her. The wine had definitely worked its inebriated magic on him as well. “Has anyone caught your keen eye lately, Eagle Bearer?” 

And just like that again, Kassandra froze. She bit her lip, frowning as her swirling thoughts circled back to a certain archeologist, pointed at her with a giant sign, wrapped her in neon lights that kept blinking obnoxiously at Kassandra like a Christmas tree. 

 _There is. There is. There is,_ the words danced and sang in her head. _There is, there is, there is._

“No.” 

Brasidas’ snort ticked her. She glared at the amphora, snatching it from his hand again to take a large gulp. 

“Liar,” he grinned when Kassandra choked on the wine. 

“Excuse me?” she slurred, absolutely offended. And officially drunk. 

“You heard,” his smile hadn’t budged. He let a beat, before daring: “Tell me about her.”

Her eyes bulged out. She stared at him like he’d just insulted her mater. “How do you…” Kassandra didn’t even try to deny it, defenses mellowed by the wine.

To his credit, Brasidas' only response was a shrug. “I’ve never seen you look twice at a man,” he stopped there, throwing the core of the apple before rubbing his beard. “Except maybe, Alkibiades.”

“Alkibiades is pretty,” her mouth blurted before she could stop it. 

Yes, Alkibiades was nice to look at but Alkibiades also fucked goats during his orgies and Kassandra would never let anyone who’d had intercourse with a whole den of animals approach her. Ever. It was the wine fogging her judgment. She should stop. Stop, shut up and kick Brasidas out of the bed for making her _think_ about it. 

“He is,” she heard him say, voice a little dull. “Untrustworthy, but pretty.”

Kassandra grumbled, popping yet another grape before starting on the bread. Hopefully this would soak up the alcohol in her. “Why are we talking about him again?”

“You were telling me about a woman...”

“I was _not._ ”

Brasidas ignored her retort, a sly smile on his face as he spoke, “...whom you like.”

“I don’t _like_ her,” she insisted, tone clipped like barbed wire. Her hand clamped to her traitorous mouth as soon as it was out, cursing herself for falling into his trap like a twelve-year-old. “I hate you,” Kassandra huffed and glared at the wall. 

“You wound me,” Brasidas patted her thigh, only half-sympathetic but clearly proud that his little scheme had worked. This would have never happened had she been sober. 

Her head inflated like a balloon, filled with thoughts of Lara. Feelings. Worry most of all. And something else... something she shouldn’t feel. _Don’t…_ Kassandra shook her head after a while. “It doesn’t matter, either way,” she was still glaring ahead. 

_Don’t let it happen._

All she got was a scoff, then more silence as he kept studying her profile. “But you do like her?”

Kassandra’s head whipped around. “N—” her brow creased, she groaned in frustration, rubbing her face tiredly. “Maybe. I don’t know,” the admittance came out a whiny jumbled mess of rapid fired words muffled by her hand.

Being on her own those last few months, her mind had settled on its favorite activity: overthinking everything; from her reactions in Phokis, to Lara’s _reactions_ in Phokis, to _their_ reaction in Melis. To that hug. And the kiss Kassandra had almost, almost allowed herself to give. A spur of the moment. 

She shook her head again. This was dangerous territory. “I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

_I can’t._

Because Kassandra was dying. 

Or would be dead, soon. Lara didn’t know that. They were friends and her inevitable passing already complicated things. The archeologist had lost people, Kassandra knew. Lara had never really spoken of it to her; she had alluded to the loss of her parents at a young age but that was the extent of it. 

The rest, she had read about it in the file Nix had sent her, the realization of how much Yamatai had taken from her dawning like a black veil on Kassandra’s face.

Telling the truth was not going to be easy. Kassandra had even considered not saying anything and quietly fading once they were back to the present, but the more time they spent together, the more she realized this would be impossible. Kassandra knew how stubborn Lara could get. The young woman wouldn’t hesitate to find her, only to kick her ass for disappearing like a thief. 

Hell, she could bribe Nix with her money, and he would tell her _exactly_ where Kassandra was. That crook knew no loyalty. 

No. Kassandra would have to tell her eventually. She dreaded it enough without those obnoxious, ill-timed tingles tugging at her heart and getting in the way. It would be cruel to both of them.The young woman didn’t deserve to be put through this kind of grief. It was too late for Kassandra; whatever she was starting to feel now was going to be shoved away and neatly double-locked in the confines of her head until she completed her mission and gave the Staff to Layla. 

They were _friends_.

They would remain _friends_ until the end.

Then, Lara would move on with her life. Maybe remember Kassandra fondly from time to time. This was a heartwarming thought; she could live with it. Her only satisfaction. 

The introspection had definitely sobered her, she shook her head when Brasidas opened his mouth, probably to argue with her, or insist. “Please. Let’s not,” she said.

He blinked at her a couple of times, sensing how her mood had plummeted. Her face was glum, lips drawn in a thin line, eyes downcast, staring at her legs. He nodded and offered a quiet apology. They had both been carried away by the wine seeping through their inhibitions and barriers. Kassandra had talked more tonight than she had in the last few months since Phokis. She had been less careful, too. 

“I think we should sleep,” Brasidas said quietly, as he started to move around to leave the bed. His eyes were already drooping, and Kassandra felt bad for the plan that was beginning to form in her head, but she had to be quick.

“You can stay here,” she stopped him, a hand on his shoulder to bring him back down. 

Brasidas’ mouth hung open. “I—I wouldn’t want to...”

Kassandra gave him a look. “You’re already half-falling asleep and this bed is big enough for three,” she lied down, wriggling away a little. “See? We don’t even have to touch.”

She knew he was too exhausted to refuse, and he didn’t. He settled on the bed after putting the amphora gingerly on the ground. “I’ll be gone at sunrise,” he promised, turning away from her. 

Always modest. 

“It’s your home,” Kassandra said, and waited until his soft snores filled the room an hour later before she slipped out the window. 

 

-0-

The following morning had both of them wake up with the most vicious hangover they ever had. 

Kassandra didn’t even need to fake it, the bright glare of the sun coupled with Hypatia’s shrill grumblings, sly smirks and knowing looks soured her mood something fierce, but there were a few silver linings to all of this.

One: the humongous amount of drachmae she had taken from the now-dead general the night before. He had quite obviously been picking up more than his fair share in the kingdom’s treasury the last few years. No wonder he’d had so much protection. 

Two: Brasidas hadn’t suspected a thing and laid sprawled on the bed exactly how she had left him.

Three: the absolute pride at conducting a discreet assassination completely shitfaced without alerting anyone. 

Kassandra _still_ had it.

She let out a low growl, pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to ease the raging headache. At least the hood shielded her from the sun’s bright glare. “Blast you, Dionysos,” oh, how she would kill for some paracetamol. 

“Agreed,” Brasidas said beside her, bloodshot eyes narrowed in a squint as they wobbled their way through the noisy agora swarming with people. 

It was almost noon, after a very light breakfast followed by a long bath, Hypatia had asked (demanded) to be brought Morilia mushrooms for the bread dough. Kassandra had scrunched her nose, swallowing back the vicious bout of nausea that crawled its way up her throat at the suggestion. They tasted like innards; way too strong to make bread with. They couldn’t be found in the agora, Hypatia had said, shooing Brasidas out and sending him deep into the woods where the wolves roamed. 

Kassandra offered to go with him, receiving yet another crooked grin from the old woman. 

“Bear dung is good for headaches says the priests.” 

She scoffed, bringing the lapels of her cloak closer when they entered the woods. “Be my guest, but I’m not letting any dung of any kind near my mouth.” they both grimaced.

The forest was silent around them, only disturbed by the crunch of leaves under their feet. They reached a clearing, sunrays filtering through the trees like bright halos of light. It was the perfect spot, enough humidity and just enough natural light. Kassandra began her search, she kept her head down, scanning tree roots for mushrooms. 

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes went up, at Brasidas crouched form a few meters away. “It’s only a headache, I’ve had wor—”

“I’m sorry for what Sparta has done to you,” he cut her off. “To your family,” she froze, watching him watching her. “I was thinking about what you said yesterday…” he glanced away for a second. “About not giving your children to Sparta,” his brows came together in a frown. “I thought…” he closed his eyes as if in pain, words slicing through him. “You are right. She didn’t treat you fairly, why would you want to be Spartan?”

It cost him to say this. She knew, Kassandra knew all too well. Brasidas loved his home, _loved_ Sparta. 

“There’s too much bloodshed,” he continued, voice strained. “Traditions, wars, I’ve seen so many young boys die,” and he hadn’t thought much of it. Hadn’t dared to, but now the dam was open and he couldn’t stop talking. “There’s something brewing, I don’t…” his shoulders deflated with his sigh. “I don’t trust the Kings to…”

“Brasidas,” she rose to her feet, looking around them to make sure they were alone. “If they hear you…”

“I know,” the man nodded. “But you’re the only one I can talk to about this.”

Kassandra hummed. Maybe she could… 

_No._

But what if? 

She knew she couldn’t tell him about Pausanias, not like this, but if she steered him… 

Kassandra ignored the warning blaring in her head. “Beware of the snake hiding in the grass,” she muttered. “That’s what Nikolaos told me before…” 

He stiffened, eyes widening. “…In Sparta?” 

She swallowed; her nod feeble. “They are everywhere. You have to stay careful.”

Something clicked in him, she saw the realization in his eyes. “Is that why you came?”

_No._

“Yes,” the lie scorched her mouth, leaving it bleeding. “And I will leave soon, but there are others. Here. People you’d never suspect.”

Brasidas nodded once, twice, three times, still trying to make sense of her revelations. Kassandra wanted to tell him, she really did. She had already said too much. “I will be looking,” he said.

“Be careful,” she repeated, squeezing his arm. “Don’t take matters into your own hands,” her eyes were grave, shining with worry. “Wait for my return. Promise me.”

It would take a bit of time for the Eagle Bearer and Myrinne to walk through the doors of Sparta, but now she had a spy on the inside. If Brasidas uncovered clues about Pausanias’ treason, maybe this time the elders would believe her. 

“Promise me,” she said again. 

Brasidas’ lips drew in a thin line. It was obvious he wanted to argue, but her stern look made him reconsider. “You have my word.”

Kassandra nodded, pulling away to resume their search. Silence hung heavily between them, both too lost in their thoughts to talk as they walked back home with their bags full.

“You took your sweet time,” Hypathia greeted, eyes flickering between them. Her suspicious scowl turned into a beaming smile. “I hope it was worth it.”

Kassandra’s rib cage was tight that night when she lay in bed, a painful pinch from within that refused to subdue. The churn in her gut grew, becoming harder and harder to ignore as she tossed and turned. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the impending feeling of dread that overcame her.

Like she had just made a terrible mistake.

 

-0-

It was stupid.

Kassandra knew it was. Had known the moment she’d entered the agora. The very second her eyes strayed on that squared piece of reinforced leather and the instant the mortifying, unstoppable wheel of thoughts set in motion in her decidedly stupid brain. 

_This could make some nice finger gloves for Lara’s bow._

Soon followed by:

 _You could make them_. 

And what finished Kassandra off: 

 _For her birthday,_ which, by her calculations should come around the same time they would see each other again.

Kassandra frowned at the needle piercing through the leather with practiced ease. By the time she had one and a half fingers done it was too late to talk herself out of it. She had been working on the glove for a few days, in order to make it as sturdy and comfortable as possible. An hour here, an hour there. She had poured too much energy (and blood) on it to give up now. Her mind alternated between reminding her how senseless she was being and self-congratulating for her brilliant idea. 

 _It’s nothing to write home about. Something practical_.

_A birthday gift._

Rinse and repeat. 

She growled in frustration, staring daggers at the leather until the needle stabbed her deep between the skin and nail _(again),_ drawing a surprised yelp. 

“Maláka!” her scowl doubled down as she sucked on her finger.

She should just throw the damn thing away. Lara had thousands of those in her mansion, surely. She probably had  made one for herself already. Or the Daughters gave her one.

“It will catch fire if you keep glaring at it,” Brasidas leaned on the threshold of her room, arms crossed over his chest with a grin on his face.

She glanced up, surprised by his freshly cut and braided hair. “I’m sorry, who are you again?”

He laughed, running his fingers through his now short brown locks. “That bad?”

“Your admirers will run you off now that you look human again.”

“Too bad I’m not staying,” he replied, shrugging. The gold of his _linothorax_ was shining, a sharp contrast to the bright crimson of the shawl wrapped on his shoulders.

Ready for battle. 

“Where to?” she pointed at the helmet under his arm with her chin. 

“Boeotia, in a few hours,” he said, standing straight before sighing. “We need to weaken Athens’ position before sending the rest of the troops.”

 _With Stentor,_ Kassandra remembered. She had no idea of Brasidas’ involvement in the Boeotian battles. They had been harsh on her, but not insurmountable. All thanks to him, she realized, eyes shining in awe. 

“Don’t die on me, Brasidas,” he smiled at her request that was more akin to an order. “I want you to be here when I return.”

He bowed. “At your command,” his tone breezy but his eyes were solemn. Kassandra rose from the bed, shoving the glove in her _skeuos_ before slinging it on her shoulder. “You don’t have to leave,” Brasidas hurried. “I’m sure Hypatia would—”

“Tell her I’ll be back in nine months with a surprise,” she said, and winked with a wide grin when he choked on his words, coughing to the point he almost dropped his helmet. She patted his back, “My job here is done.” Kassandra continued as they walked downstairs and crossed the doors. “I have urgent matters, elsewhere.”

“I see,” he said, eyes shining knowingly. 

“It’s not what you think,” she grumbled. 

“If you say so,” he chuckled, slowing down when they reached the borders of the terrace. “I’m sure she will like your gift.”

Kassandra’s head whipped around sharply, “It’s not a gi—” Brasidas’ eyebrow went up, _daring_ her to finish her sentence. After a long stare down, her shoulders dropped, admitting defeat, both to him and herself. It was a gift, alright. “I hope so,” she said instead, quiet and uncertain.

“I’m sure,” his fingers twitched again, itching to squeeze her shoulder. “About last time, in the forest...”

Kassandra stood straight, looking him in the eyes. “Keep your eyes peeled, but be careful,” her tongue poked out to wet her lips. “Wait for me.” 

Brasidas nodded. “Of course,” another smile tugged at his lips when he grabbed her forearm. “I will see you, Kassandra of House Agiad.”

His breath hitched when she tugged forward and took him in a tight hug instead, drawing him close. She’d wanted to do that for so long... Kassandra’s eyes jammed shut, lip trapped between her teeth to stop the tears. 

“Farewell, my friend.”

* * *

 

The Gods had always been just to Barnabas. 

Not exactly fair, but just.

For all the heartbreaks, the accidents, the intricate dramas that life threw at him, They always balanced it with something else, something beautiful. 

He had lost an eye, but Poseidon had granted him the insight of the seas, a precious and extensive knowledge of the oceans, and their currents. Sailing had become as natural as breathing.

He had lost his forever-love, thus never experiencing the joys of fatherhood, never had a child of his own.

Yet, he had found a daughter on a godsforsaken island in the middle of nowhere, during one of the most harrowing events of his life. Barnabas had been so close to dying he’d begun to pray just as the Cyclops shoved his head into the pot again. For the biggest affront to a seasoned seafarer like himself would be to die on land drowned in a cursed _puddle._

The Fates smiled upon him that day. Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite rolled into one. He had seen her, a miracle through his blurred, working eye, all provocative smiles and rash teasing as she tossed the obsidian eye in the air before catching it. Tossing it and catching it again and again, mocking until she pushed the thug to his last retrenchment in the most daring, yet hilarious scheme Barnabas had ever witnessed. 

 _“You want it?”_ she’d asked before shoving the Cyclops’ eye up a goat’s ass and watching carefully as his face dissolved in shocked anger. _“Go get it.”_

The Gods had sent him a savior that day. A Daughter. Not of blood, but of kin. Of heart. 

Years later, and he couldn’t shake the worry that rattled through his bones every time Kassandra left for a contract, or another one of her obscure quests. He prayed. He prayed every day, offering drachmae, food and blood to whatever God deigned to listen.

His heart had almost skipped a beat when he returned to the ship and found her battered and brooding; shoulder strapped, with an aggravated Odessa fussing over her. 

 _“It’s not your fault,”_ Kassandra had said that night when they watched the stars together.

 _“I gave you that cursed scroll,”_ Barnabas had shaken his head, grey locks sweeping around his shoulders. _“I shouldn’t have.”_

 _“I was brash,”_ she’d admitted with a wide grin, patting his arm with her good hand. _“Too brash. You know, she didn’t look all that threatening…”_ her features had shifted, thoughtful. _“Very pretty. You should have seen her. Aphrodite and Eros come again. And that voice...”_ she’d finished with a low whistle and a wink.

It had gotten a laugh from him. Only Kassandra, facing the doors of death, would be thinking about _that_. _“I want to see her,”_ she’d blurted. _“Preferably without a knife at my throat, this time.”_

His stare had been scalding. Holding all the things he wanted to say but didn’t allow himself to. _“Don’t fight her again,”_ is what he’d finally settled on. _“Please.”_

_Do it for me._

Kassandra had nodded twice. _“I promise.”_

She always kept her promises.

And so, the hunt for drachmae resumed, although she made a point of taking bounties that were a lot less risky. She had also let any willing soul know that the Eagle Bearer was actively looking for the one they called the Daughter of Hephaistos. 

Word would get to the foreigner. Hopefully, this would be enough to make her leave if she was around, and ease Barnabas’ mind. Kassandra hadn’t had time to sit down and talk with her, but from the small amount of time they had spent together - fighting each other for their lives, it became clear that the foreigner wasn’t one to seek confrontation. She only responded when threatened, like a cornered snake. Kassandra was doing the equivalent of stomping her feet to announce her presence and give her time to flee. 

It worked. 

But the drachmae were slow in coming. 

The last blow had been when word reached them that the general who’d sponsored the bounty had suddenly died in his bed. Hemlock. Kassandra had been both disheartened (so long, drachmae) and impressed. 

She stood corrected; that misthios was no snake. A black _pánthēr,_ more like. A dangerous beast of prey, swift and deadly when it wanted. When _provoked._

It made Kassandra shiver. Whether in apprehension, fear or delight, she didn’t know - but she certainly wanted to find out.

Barnabas had regarded her growing interest warily. Praying the Gods for a contract that would bring enough money for Kassandra’s attention to shift back to finding her mater. 

And They had answered, in their merciful compassion. They had answered. 

Barnabas couldn’t believe his eye, he kept rubbing at it, frowning, refusing to blink in case the pouch sitting idly on his palm would suddenly disappear. “A-are you sure?” he looked up at the priest who read his scroll for the third time.

“Are you Barnabas of Mykonos?” he nodded. “And you own the Adrestia, under the Eagle Bearer’s command?” another nod. “Then yes, I am sure.”

Barnabas’ wrinkles creased with his frown. “But h-how…” he shook his head. “Who is it from?”

The priest gave him a slow and dispassionate shrug, reading over the note again. “It doesn’t say.”

He wanted to scoff and roll his eyes at the man because _of course_ , it wouldn’t say, but that would be an affront to the Gods, wouldn’t it? “Who gave it to you?”

Another shrug. “Someone dropped it a few days ago. Hooded figure, didn’t talk. Gave us the scroll and left.”

“Without a word?”

The conversation was starting to aggravate the priest and it showed. “Do you want it or not?” he snapped. “Because the Temple could make good use of the drachmae to fix up the roof. It’s leaking.” He caught himself after his small outburst and relaxed, offering a genuine smile. “Take it as it is, Barnabas of Mykonos, you have your very own _Eudaemon._ ”

Someone watching over him. A deified guardian bestowing their benevolence upon him. 

Barnabas could feel the grin tugging at his lips turn into a loud and delighted laugh. The Gods were good. They were just. They had heard his pleas and came to his aid.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he took the flabbergasted priest in his arms, kissing both of his cheeks and his forehead before leaving the temple, a small bounce to his step.

Kassandra would see her mater again. Soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only Kassandra would take an interest in a girl who came close to slitting her throat. Isn't that how she meets all her women? 
> 
> That drunken scene between Kass and Bras had been nagging me for MONTHS. Kassandra needed to tell someone she caught _feelings_ y'know, instead of keeping it for herself. And Bro-sidas was the ultimate choice. 
> 
> Spartan women were said to shave their head to appear more masculine/appealing to Spartan men when they were looking to settle down. 
> 
> Alcibiades is a handsome fellow. Actually, he was so good looking I believe there's something about Socrates saying an actor couldn't play a plausible Alicibiade because he wasn't hot enough. That's how hot he was.


	14. Chapitre Quatorze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support, you guys! Seems a lot of you liked Brosidas and Kass sharing their drunken thoughts! Thanks again for sticking around and dropping a line kudo-ing and following this trainwreck! it means a lot!
> 
> My beta is the best beta and they went through this monster of a chapter in no time. Amazing. They're amazing.
> 
> Warning for graphic violence obviously.
> 
> Tympanon is a hand drum exclusively used by women.  
> sideritis is a medicinal plant that could be used for tea but also to heal "iron wounds" aka swords

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chios was grey; she couldn't remember it being so cloudy.

Kassandra’s heart was heavy with apprehension, all wild pounding in her chest. Her eyes took in the view, the threatening edges of the cliffs like bared teeth, the dull palettes of black, dark browns and ashen greys. Chios looked like it was burrowing into itself, like a cornered animal. Like it was afraid. Like it was mourning.

Mourning and grey like that day Kassandra had snapped and lost the last strands of her humanity.

Like that day she became Deimos.

…

Her legs are swinging in the vacuum; back and forth, back and forth. She hums softly, red-rimmed eyes like a void of shining amber. Her thumb runs on the edge of the spear, knows the exact pressure to apply so it doesn’t slice through.

It’s glistening with blood, but it’s not hers.

Her grey cloak is drenched crimson, but it’s not hers.

Kassandra hums, then stops when she hears the faint shuffling of steps behind her. She puts the spear next to her and smiles.

“Finally,” she says, turning her head. Whatever Iokaste sees on Kassandra’s face makes her freeze, eyes bulging out under her hood. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

There’s a cold shudder rippling through the other woman’s body. Kassandra sees it, and grins wider.

It’s beautiful.

(It’s terrifying.)

Iokaste’s eyes flicker left and right, searching.

“Are you looking for her?” Kassandra’s hand is hidden by the cloak. She takes it out, revealing the telltale purple plume adorning the helmets of the Cult's footsoldiers. There's a head still in the one dangling from Kassandra's belt; the head of Iokaste's general - her bodyguard in charge of keeping their fort on the island. “She put up a fight,” Kassandra shrugs casually before throwing the head down the cliff.

She follows its descent with her eyes, leaning forward over the edge, then squints when she hears the quiet thud it makes downhill. “I can still make out her face...” she muses out loud. “This cliff is no Mount Taygetos,” her lips tug downward. She sounds almost disappointed. “I should know, I was thrown off of it. With my brother,” her lips curl into a snarl when she turns back. “Because of you.”

Iokaste can’t move. Kassandra’s eyes burn through her, their fury pines her down. She’s still smiling. The other woman has never been so scared in her life.

So enamored.

(It should have been her. Dread should have been her.)

“I killed him, you know,” Kassandra says after a long bout of silence. Iokaste knows, word had just reached her from the Ghost. Kassandra’s face relaxes, becomes thoughtful again. “You made me kill my brother, Iokaste,” there’s no words coming from the other woman, so she continues. “And you killed the love of my life.”

Iokaste’s eyes narrow. Daphnae.

Daphnae had died long ago. She had expected the Eagle Bearer to know, to come and avenge her, to call for Iokaste’s blood. Days turned into weeks, then years. She had waited, even fooling herself into thinking Kassandra had moved on, that she’d somehow forgotten her pain in someone else’s arms.

That she would follow Daphnae’s will, even in death.

It dawns on her now that Kassandra had never forgotten. She’d waited just like her, looming in the shadows, taking Cultists out one at a time until all that remained was Iokaste and the Ghost. The centerpiece and her frontrunner.

“Deimos did it,” Iokaste’s voice is surprisingly even when she speaks. Her lips curl around the words; manipulation is second-nature for her. She knows she won’t escape Astropos’ scissors much longer, but if she can soften the daemon facing her right now… “Did he ever tell you?”

It doesn’t work. Kassandra’s eyes narrow. A predator readying to pounce.

“I am Deimos,” she says, “I am every bit of the beast you made my brother to be,” her head tilts to the side, towards the entrance of the fort. Towards the small pile of bodies in there. She grins and shrugs. “For today, at least.”

It’s terrifying.

(It’s beautiful. The Ghost was right, it should have been her.)

“Tell me,” Kassandra shifts and rises to her feet, revealing the dead lions next to her. She dusts off her cloak, then remembers how futile it is, and looks up. “What do you think will happen to you, Iokaste?” her eyes are almost childlike in their morbid curiosity.

The huntress can’t talk. She’s transfixed.

“Do you believe in the Gods?”

It’s a loaded question. Her answer won’t sway Kassandra, won’t change her fate, she knows. “No,” Iokaste chooses honesty for the first time in her life.

For the last time.

“Good.” Kassandra nods slowly. “Because They won’t recognize you when I’m done.”

….

Iokaste had embodied everything Kassandra hated about the Cult. In the haze of fury, her thoughts had been surprisingly quiet. She had given into the call for revenge that had been rumbling inside her for years.

Kassandra had taken a twisted glee in torturing Iokaste, letting her gored body to rot and hang from her innards for vultures to feast on. Her remains had been scattered everywhere so that even Hades wouldn’t stand the sight of her. Forever bound to roam the riverbanks of the Styx, looking for her limbs among the wailing forsaken souls. Never finding peace.

All that raging violence made Kassandra hurl, made her gut twist and knot painfully within, even thousands of years later. She couldn’t possibly blame her outburst on the Staff. It had all come from her, from the ugly monster rearing its head in the depth of her being.

_Kill, kill, kill. They deserve it. They deserve all of it._

It had calmed down after she’d hunted all the Cultists, and the Order of the Ancients had cowered out of Greece. Holding on the Staff had made that darkness and the call for blood more difficult to ignore. Although, Kassandra had reigned on her anger, buffering it with long months of isolation and meditation.

It would be easy to give in that power, to look down on humans the way the Isu had done. The way Pythagoras had done. She was immortal, virtually invincible. Everything was possible, her realm was endless. The world in the palm of her hand, pliant and fragile - like the necks of the construction workers who had desecrated Phoibe’s resting place. She had killed them, without thinking. Without caring. Just because she  _could_.

Kassandra shook her head, a cold shudder running through her spine.

It would be over soon.

_Soon._ She wouldn’t have to teeter on ice and worry any longer. It would become Layla’s burden to carry.

Nightfall’s darkness had almost draped over Chios’ sky when the ship reached the small fisherman village on the southern coast of the island. Kassandra kept looking around herself, mask in place and cloak wrapped tight around her frame, lest a Daughter appeared out of nowhere and somehow recognized her.

No one paid her any attention however. The hollering merchants were too busy trying to sell the last of their stock and pack their goods to give her a second glance. Even the kids didn’t stop to point at her.

Her blood froze the fourth time she checked her surroundings; the sight of gleaming armors and flashes of purple fabric barely concealed by dark cloaks made her come to a halt next to a warehouse. Soldiers, cultists. They were walking straight towards the forest in which the Daughters dwelled.

_No... This can’t be …_

Kassandra gritted her teeth, cursing every god in the vicinity who delighted in torturing her. Making up her mind, she veered around and ran east, to the huntress village, through a shortcut she had memorized.

_Hold on… both of you._

* * *

 

Lara kept blinking down at the clothes. Daphnae herself had come into her hut to give them to the archeologist, sporting a broad smile. “It’s time,” was all she’d said before leaving her alone.

_It’s time._

Almost six months. Five months and eighteen days, to be exact. Lara had kept track, fetching her wristwatch carefully hidden in the doubling of her bag to check every night before she slept.

Almost six months and no sign of Kassandra.

She squinted up at the sky every day, expecting to catch a glimpse of something. She roamed in the forest alone for hours, hoping to see Kassandra’s lurking figure wriggle out of a bush, and laugh.

Her scrambled mind had been so out of it those last few weeks that Lara had even surprised herself concocting an escape plan out of the village, ranging from half-baked excuses to an elaborate scheme that involved bleeding a boar and faking her own death. She had put the brakes on it the day she seriously contemplated making explosives with the remaining bullets and provoke a cave in. On purpose, this time.

_You’re being ridiculous!_

Thankfully, she had talked herself out of it, which meant Lara was standing in her hut right now, wearing the ceremonial clothing of her anointment as a Daughter of Artemis.

Her mind swam with flashes of Peru and Unuratu leading her through the haze of small, bubbly Païtiti.

Lying on the cold hard stone.

_I’m ready._

The Yaaxil holding the knife just above her heart.

_I can do this._

Closing her eyes, feeling none of the dread and fear of imminent death. Just peace.

_I’m ready._

“Lara?”

She shook her head, crashing back to the present. Melete was just outside, waiting. “I’m coming,” Lara took a deep, steadying breath and revealed herself to the night sky.

Melete’s eyes were dancing with mirth, her smile big and luminous. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, looking at her from head to toe, both awed and sheepish.

Lara scoffed and shook her head, her smile clearly dry. “I’m cold.”

They had tentatively patched things up after a month of the young huntress making a run for it every time Lara took a step in her direction. They never talked about that night, or that kiss, or even the conversation they’d had beforehand.

Melete chuckled. “I was the same.” the ceremonial clothing left her back bare, her legs and arms completely exposed to the cold breeze. “It won’t be long.”

Lara nodded, frowning when the huntress took a step forward and wrapped something around her neck. “Walk in peace, sister. For Artemis will guide your steps and grant you strength,” a pink hue colored her cheeks when she kissed Lara’s forehead.

The archeologist blinked.

Melete pulled back with a shy smile. “Go ahead,” she motioned towards the road paved with torches that led to the cave.

Lara followed her instructions, stopping every few meters to receive a prayer, a kiss and a trinket from one of the Daughters.

“Two-legs,” the pathfinder grinned, her teeth gleaming under the firelight. “This isn’t much but...” she gave Lara a wolf claw. “We just had a litter,” her smile widened. “One of the pups will be yours.”

Lara could only nod nervously and give her an awkward pat when the pathfinder took her in a surprisingly strong hug before walking to the next huntress.

The hood covered most of her face, save for the thin lips that stretched in a malicious smirk. “We finally meet, foreigner.”

Lara froze, muscles tensing instinctively. None of the Daughters had called her that in a while. “Yes,” she tried to keep the edge out of her voice, head in a discreet tilt to see the features of the other woman. “Iokaste…?”

If she was surprised, the huntress didn’t show it, only raising her chin a little. “I wish it had happened earlier, but it is an honor to be present for such a special occasion, sister,” her smile stretched, becoming even more unsettling.

Lara’s eye twitched. “I am not anointed yet.”

Iokaste chuckled, appraising her for a long and unsettling moment, before she said, “Semantics,” scouring in her pouch, she produced an impressive lion’s tooth. “Your gift awaits, this is only a little...” she hummed. “Sneak peek.”

The young woman shuddered, and bowed with the tooth held tight in her fist. “Thank you,” Lara walked a few steps away, feeling Iokaste’s eyes on her the whole time.  _It’s a trap._ Alarms were blaring in her head. Something was brewing, she felt it in her bones.

Agneta was the last one, standing by the entrance. By then, Lara’s arms were riddled with clinking bracelets. “You’re one of us now,” she said as she wrapped one of her heavy belts around Lara’s waist. Her scowl morphed into a big grin when their eyes met. “I’m glad.”

The archeologist winced when the huntress slapped her back with her huge hands. “Thank you.”

Lara felt awful. It shouldn’t be happening. This felt wrong, she knew it. She was a fluke, she didn’t belong. The Daughters shouldn’t be here, sporting their welcoming smiles and giving her gifts like she was one of them. Anxiety made her palms clammy; Lara took a deep breath and wiped her hands on her clothes. 

“Come,” Daphnae looking at her with nothing but pride was just the cherry on top. The archeologist entered the cave, almost burrowing into herself. “We must prepare you for your pledge to the Goddess.”

Lara stood in front of her, eyes flickering. Daphnae began to remove all the trinkets, one by one before putting them in a pot, slow and careful. Once Lara’s arms were bare again, she dropped her index and forefinger in dark-brown paint and started applying it with practiced swipes, muttering prayers under her breath. Daphnae repeated the process on Lara’s back and face, stepping back to assess her work once she was done.

The archeologist was fidgeting under her gaze. “How do I look?” she blurted, earning a smile from Daphnae.

“Like a Daughter of the wild, sister.”

 

-0-

The temple was buried so deep within the forest that they blended together and almost made one. Lara remembered walking this path several times over the past few months and never noticing it. Almost like it had hidden itself from her all this time. In the dark, and with no torch, she could only make out the vines that embraced the building. She touched one of the walls, feeling the ruggedness of mosses under her fingertips, rising and falling, like the temple was…

“Breathing…” Lara said out loud, turning to Daphnae, the question hot on her lips.

The huntress nodded before opening the door. “ _She_  is.”

A gush of warmth enveloped the two women when they stepped inside. A few torches were already lit, orange hue flickering on hard stone and dark roots.

Artemis stood in the middle, the dancing shadows of firelight rendering her almost lifelike. Draped in a long robe with a veil covering her head, hands joined in prayer, bow and quiver at her feet, with a stag on her right side. The archeologist had never before seen a rendition quite like this one. Goddess of beasts, the moon, protector of young girls and the wilderness. It took her breath away.

“Magnificent,” she muttered, itching to walk the few meters that separated her from the statue and touch it.

Daphnae was smiling at her. “Come,” she led them closer and knelt, quickly followed by the archeologist. “Let us pray, before we begin.”

Lara closd her eyes, listening intently when the other woman spoke her prayers. Despite her soothing voice and the feeling of relative safety emanating from the temple, her guts were churning painfully in her stomach, heart pinched tight with apprehension. Meeting Iokaste had left a bitter tinge on her tongue, a hunch that kept drawing her back every time she let herself drift away.

Her breathing had become deeper and somewhat louder by the time Daphnae interrupted herself abruptly, brow creasing in a frown.

The hair on the back of Lara’s neck rose.

Danger.

They shared a long look, their understanding instant. “They’re close,” was all Daphnae said before standing up. “We need to go,” she walked around the statue of Artemis, fetching a large, ornate bow and a belt of swords. “These are sacred boons,” she explained, handing them to Lara. “They were to be yours once anointed.”

The archeologist blinked, winced, a wave of guilt crashing over her. They had prepared everything. “I’m sorry...” but the other woman was already shaking her head and walking outside.

The air was loaded, tinged with a faint smell of smoke. Lara crouched down on the path of the humid forest and grabbed a fistful of mud. “I’ve done this before,” she said, noticing Daphnae’s curious look when she started rubbing it on her arms and face. “It’s dark, they won’t see us if we blend in.”

“You are right,” the other woman nodded and lowered on the ground to do the same.

They took cover behind oaks and foliage, retracing their steps with the pathway in sight. Flickering lights appeared in the distance, making both women freeze and crouch even lower.

“Find them!” a voice barked. “They’re not far!”

Daphnae’s eyes narrowed in a squint. “Outsiders...” the hold on her sword tightened. “No banners.”

Lara could make out their silhouettes of gleaming silver and purple. “The Cult,” she blurted, realizing too late what she’d said when Daphnae’s head whipped around.

“You know them?”

Her lips drew in a thin line, mentally cursing herself for her mishap. Lara had just blown her cover and scrambled frantically for an excuse. “Fanatics, I’ve... I’ve heard of them before.”

She could see the wheels turning in Daphnae’s head as she pieced the information together. “They’re here for you?”

The Cult didn’t know about Lara, not in this time. She and Kassandra had been careful not to draw their attention while they looked for clues to guide the Eagle Bearer. That task had to be delayed while they dealt with the wanted-situation. “I don’t think so...”

Daphnae’s features became hard. “You don’t  _think_ so?” she muttered harshly, grabbing the archeologist’s hand to lead her away from the flickering torches approaching.

Lara shook her head. “I know them, but they don’t know about me,” she said, trying to keep things as vague as possible. “I’m wanted,” this was more akin to an open secret than an actual revelation; the huntress’ face remained neutral. “But not by them.”

The Cult was after the Eagle Bearer, Lara reasoned, but Kassandra wasn’t here either, which left only one person.

“Me,” Daphnae voiced her thoughts. “Is it?”

Her association with the Eagle Bearer made her the perfect target for bargaining. Or worse.

The archeologist winced, nodding. “Probably.”

“You!” the harsh voice drew closer. “Go back to the village. Tell them to kill everyone and bring Deimos here.”

_Deimos..._

Lara froze. Kassandra’s brother was here. The Cult had sent him all the way to Chios, which meant there was no ransoming Daphnae’s freedom in exchange for Kassandra. What they wanted was to cripple her. To get to the Eagle Bearer by having her own brother kill Daphnae.

Bile rose in the archeologist, feeling both sick and angry at the twisted mind who’d come up with this idea.

“We need to stop him,” she whispered, bypassing the bulk of the troops to hide near a tree trunk. She looked around, eyes lingering on the huntress as a plan formed in her head. “Give me your rope and stay here,” Daphnae was already shaking her head but Lara stopped her with a firm hand on the shoulder. “We don’t have time to argue,” she continued, “Trust me.”

She didn’t wait for an answer and climbed the trunk, swinging from branch to branch while keeping an eye out of the messenger underneath. He was fast, but she was faster and caught up with him, drawing a roped arrow to shoot and tug him up when he walked below her.

Lara jumped, his surprised grunt cut short by the cord she wrapped around his neck once she had him close. The woman let herself slide down his wriggling body and fall on the ground, using his weight as leverage. The sickening crack of his broken neck was muffled by the forest. She went back to Daphnae, perched on the first tree.

There were five Cultists below them. With the effect of surprise, they could take out three of them in one go. The last two could prove to be an issue.

The huntress tapped Lara’s shoulder, drawing her attention. “Their leader first,” she pointed down. “Then, the biggest. On my signal.”

She nodded, shifting to nock another arrow in her bow.

“Where the fuck is this tem—” the soldiers’ leader gurgled, spluttering blood when an arrow lodged itself through his throat. He fell to his knees, one hand clutched around the stick in an attempt to take it out. Another shot got him in the eye, startling his men out of their torpor.

“Shields up!” one yelled before an arrow struck his chest.

Lara shot the third one just as Daphnae jumped feet first on the fourth guard and broke his shoulders. She finished him off with a dagger, rising and pivoting to face last one with her sword drawn. He faltered, took a step back before he tripped, fell on his back and flopped around, limbs flailing to crawl his way out only to faceplant on Lara’s boot when she kicked him in the face.

“No, no, no! Please, don’t!” he whimpered when the huntress raised her sword and struck, cutting off his plea with a twist of her blade.

The women powered through the forest, running faster once the cliff above the village was in sight. Shouts and cries mingled with animalistic growls were rising along with black smoke. Huts were ablaze, blurred shadows fighting and falling on the ground only to rise and fight again.

“Daphnae!” Agneta cried, driving her mace through a man’s skull before turning towards them. “We can’t hold on much longer!”

The huntress turned to Lara and grabbed her elbow in a vice grip. “Tell the others to retreat to the forest. Go!”

The archeologist dashed forward, dodging swords and spears as she slithered past the men. A flash of blonde hair caught her attention among the chaos. Lara launched herself above ground, reaching Melete with two large steps. “Are you okay?”

The huntress startled, barely avoiding the sword swinging at her before Lara parried it with her axe and kicked the Cultist in the crotch, leaving Melete to strike him in the head with her pommel. “Yes!”

“Retreat back to the forest and disperse,” Lara’s voice rose above the agitation.

“No! I’m not leaving!”

She tugged on Melete’s arm, drawing her back harshly when the young woman ignored her to walk further into the fight. “Those are Daphnae’s orders,” Lara shouted back, hands squishing her blood-streaked cheeks. “You go, now!”

No sooner had she said this that the swift whizzing of a heavy sword dove between them. Lara jumped backwards, the edge catching a few strands of hair. Though the sword had moved too fast to be seen, the blood poured out as if in slow motion, it flowed thickly, splashing Lara’s face and arms in warm crimson. Melete’s body stumbled forward, forcing her down with it.

It was heavy. Heavy and headless. Lara’s eyes widened, nostrils flared with her erratic breathing, her whole body started shaking, on the verge of panic. She tried to scream, but only a muffled shriek came out, watching as the shadow walked past her with the drenched sword in his left hand.

“Which one of you is the Eagle Bearer’s whore?” his voice rumbled as he swung the Sword of Damokles around. “You?” cutting a Daughter in half when he ducked out of her frontal attack. “Or is it you?” grabbing another one by the neck and breaking it like a twig.

Lara’s vision was blurry, eyes stung by ash, blood and smoke, the incessant ringing in her ears muffling the horrific mayhem. She saw it all from the ground. The fury, the gore and glee of this beast slashing his way through the human wall of warriors like it was nothing. Women, fighting for their lives, fierce and relentless even on the verge of death, but in vain as the sword swung and twisted and thrust again, leaving nothing but dread in its wake.

The armor that gleamed in gold and black. The one Kassandra had been wearing in her vision, now splashed with red. He stopped, looking around himself with a snarl.  _“Daphnae!”_ he yelled, halting the fight for the barest of seconds, scanning his surroundings until he found the only one who had looked back at him.

The sword flew again, cutting through a Daughter’s arm. He grabbed her spear and took aim.

_No... no, no!_

She had to stop it.

“N—!” Lara tried to untangle herself from the corpse above her and rolled sideways, just as Deimos dashed towards Daphnae. Scrambling to her knees, she tried to get up but faltered, throwing her arm forward. “No!”

She was too far.

He was going to strike her. He was going to.

The spear whizzed straight ahead; its gleaming head pointed at the frozen huntress.

Lara closed her eyes, muscles tense and voice raw with her screaming. She opened them again a few moments later to see Daphnae on the ground, looking up, surprise etched on her face. The archeologist followed her gaze to the cloaked figure above, back arched with the spear jutting from her side.

* * *

 

Kassandra wavered, taking a step forward not to tumble down on Daphnae. Her body had absorbed most of the blow, but the searing pain in her ribs had been enough to make her cry out. Her limbs had reacted on their own, running, then jumping in the way to shield her.

She forced herself to turn around, away from the huntress’ flabbergasted face. Deimos was glaring at her, snarling. “Who are you?”

Kassandra coughed in the mask, feeling the coppery tinge of blood on her tongue. This wasn’t how she had envisioned their first meeting to go. She didn’t want to fight him. She couldn’t do it, there was no saying if touching him would make her die instantly like with her past self and Kassandra couldn’t afford to risk that. Not now.

“Masked and mute?” his grin stretched, swinging his sword again as he approached, face flashing with manic glee. “Oh, I’ll enjoy making you sing.”

She dodged his attacks, drawing him away from Daphnae and further into the raging battle in hopes to lose him there. Deimos followed, all growls and rage twirling in his dark eyes, growing more frustrated as his blade kept missing Kassandra.

“Coward,” he spat after she ducked out again. “Show your face and fight!”

He kicked at her, his foot catching the spear still buried in her side and drawing out a pained grunt. She bit on her tongue, and looking around herself quickly she spotted Lara standing just behind Deimos, a sword in her hand ready to be swung.

_Don’t do it_ , Kassandra shook her head frantically.  _Don’t!_

But it was too late. He had felt her too and his body twisted around suddenly, fingers shooting up to catch Lara’s wrist just a hair away from his face. 

“You little rat,” he snarled, jamming the pommel of his sword on her sides and stomach several times. Lara cried out, eyes widening when he thrust the blade upward, below her chin, readying his strike.

A flash of light blinded her, the iron grip on her wrist loosening before disappearing completely. Lara slumped down the dirt on her knees, clutching her side and coughing. When she came to, Kassandra had Deimos in a strong headlock with her blazing staff pushing in on his throat and prying him away.

“Let  _go_ of me!” he trashed and kicked, relentless. Kassandra’s heart was all wide pounding, expecting to feel the searing pain of another death. It didn’t happen, and so she held on, to buy Lara a little bit of time.

As Lara stood back up, Kassandra saw the thread of thoughts unfold in the other woman’s head. She knew where this was going and shook her head again, motioning for Lara to run while she held her brother in place. 

The archeologist’s nostrils flared. “I’m not leaving you behind!” she yelled in English, halting her approach when Deimos started flailing his legs at her.

That maláka was going to get them both killed.

Kassandra didn’t know how long she would be able to hold him. She shook her head again, pivoting them around, away from Lara. She didn’t see the arrow until it was already buried in her brother’s shoulder. He trashed again with renewed vigor until his movements became sluggish and uncoordinated.

Her heart skipped a beat when he slumped over her. One arrow to the shoulder wouldn’t be able to stop him, unless…

_Poison_.

Kassandra lowered herself down, still holding him. She glared at the arrow, ready to tear the head off whoever had dared to shoot, retracing its path until her furious glower found Daphnae standing at the edge of the forest with her bowstring drawn.

Her gaze didn’t waver, holding Kassandra’s own for a long while. The huntress nodded faintly, making Kassandra’s heart hammer in her veins, a wave of gratitude and relief washing over her.

Daphnae would never kill Alexios, would never harm her family.

Fingers probed at his throat to find a strong pulse. He was knocked out cold, but alive. She set the staff aside, shifting to her knees and holding him with trembling hands. “I’m sorry, little brother,” Kassandra whispered in his hair, shaky. “Forgive me.”

It was tearing her apart but she knew what she had to do. Kassandra stood up, the raging battle around her losing its intensity as the Daughters retreated and hid in the forest. She grabbed Lara by the elbow, dragging her away and turned them around, giving her back to the forest.

“You go with them,” her voice was tight. “I will find you,” but the other woman was already trying to argue and Kassandra did not have the time or patience for that. She placed her hand behind Lara’s neck and squeezed forcefully, and drawing their faces close. She lifted the mask a bit, snarling, “You do as I say Lara, and don’t argue with me.”

Kassandra was enraged. Whatever the archeologist saw when she lifted the mask was enough to make Lara gasp and kill any possible retort, realizing what could have happened. She let go of Lara’s neck and walked back to Alexios’ prone form. Crouching proved to be difficult with the spear still lodged deep in her but she managed, hauling him on her back and walking away.

 

-0-

Being so close to the surviving Daughters was dangerous, Kassandra knew. They would be too busy tending to their wounded and mourning to scout the surrounding caves, but it didn’t mean she was safe. Hopefully, Lara would find the right tree, get her message and come soon.

She had dropped Alexios near the Cultist ship that had brought him and his men. He’d begun to stir once Kassandra arrived in the fisherman village, but didn’t wake up. Small mercies; she didn’t know what would have happened had he opened his eyes and seen her.

Kassandra slumped down on the wall, wincing. The wooden part of the spear had been cut off and she had been trying to dislodge the rest of it. The first attempts had left her forehead gleaming with sweat and lips bloody. It hadn’t damaged any vital organs, from what she could tell. A flesh wound, deep, but not too lethal. Fingers crusted by dried blood clutched at the broken spear again, Kassandra’s nostrils flared, breathing growing frantic with apprehension. She shoved a cloth in her mouth with her other hand, closed her eyes and  _tugged_.

Hot white pain seared through her side, leaving her screaming it away to the cloth until the spear moved, tearing chunks of flesh with it. She powered through the pulsing waves till the head was out, glistening with blood. Its clinking echoed softly in the cave when she threw it away, eyes narrowed and watery. She slumped down on the ground, curling into herself and trying to get her breathing in check.

“Kass—oh, God!” Lara’s alarmed voice reached her first before the touch of fingers on her clammy skin, shifting her to lie on her back. “What… what happened?” the archeologist looked around, finding the disregarded spear a few meters away. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

Kassandra managed a weak smile. “You were taking too long,” she hissed when Lara probed the hole at her side.

“Your carving could use some work, I couldn’t read it. Wrong Kanji, by the way,” she retorted, trying to alleviate the tension. Kassandra recoiled when she touched her wound again. “We have to stop the bleeding,” Lara turned around to look for something.

She could only hum, feeling suddenly lighthearted. Maybe she could… close her eyes for a little while… yeah, it sounded good… maybe…

That idea was thrown out of the window once the acute burn of alcohol made contact with her raw skin, leaving her shouting and thrashing wildly until Lara straddled her legs to stop her from moving and worsening her wound. She clamped Kassandra’s mouth shut with the palm of her free hand.

“Shh, there. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the young woman kept repeating while maintaining the imbibed cloth on the wound. “I had to, I’m sorry.”

She sounded genuine, yet, Kassandra’s delirious mind wanted nothing but to slap her silly. Who even does _that?_

“Maláka,” she swatted Lara’s hand away from her mouth, indignant. Her glare was scalding. “You could have warned me!”

“You were going to pass out,” was her only (valid, Kassandra begrudgingly admitted) explanation. “Now, you’re awake,” was that a grin? Was she really  _grinning_  now?

If her brain wasn’t half pain right now, Kassandra could have come up with a good shot back. The only thing it was able to process beside the throbbing at her side was the weight on top of her and how a few strands of stray hair were tickling her cheeks.

After six months of not seeing each other, one would think that she’d have something else on her mind besides… Kassandra closed her eyes, breathing slowly. This was awkward only if she made it so.

This was awkward only if she made it so.

Only if she made it so.

“I think…” fingers twitched near the archeologist thigh, closing into fists. Her tongue poked out to wet her chapped lips. The tinge of metal grounded her. “I think you can get off of me now.”

“Uh?” Lara was still fussing over her wound. Kassandra felt the exact moment the words processed, how her whole body stiffened as she stammered awkwardly. “Oh. S-sorry,” and swung her leg out of the way so fast that she grazed Kassandra with it.

“Ow!”

Lara dissolved in apologies again, looking genuinely pained. She averted Kassandra’s glare to focus on the wound.

“What happens now?” the archeologist’s voice startled her a few moments later. She must have drifted off again.

Kassandra’s eyes lingered on the stalactites upward as she gathered her thoughts. “We need to leave.”

Lara nodded. “It’s dangerous for you to stay here.”

The shine in her eyes when Kassandra’s looked back told her Lara knew  _exactly_  how dangerous it was. Of course, she would. Months among the Daughters, word was bound to come out. Kassandra felt bare, a nervous churning in her gut. Her eyes closed again.  

“Yes,” was her only response. “It is.”

Lara made a quick work of applying the _sideritis_ ointment she’d brought and bandaging her wound before standing up. Her eyes flickered between Kassandra and the entrance, biting her lip nervously. “I need to go back,” she said. “I told them I was going for a wash. They will start looking soon.”

It hit her then. Kassandra hadn’t even asked. They had been talking for close to half an hour and she hadn’t asked how Lara was doing. She took in the archeologist’s disheveled appearance; the mud and blood, the ashen glint of her usually sparkling eyes. Guilt seeped into Kassandra, twisted and squeezed at her heart like a snake.

It was her fault. Again.

Always.

* * *

 

“Are you okay?”

Lara wanted to hit something.

She had done a splendid job at ignoring the elephant in the room, talking and even joking like this was one of their normal days, pretending that yesterday had been a series of horribly vivid nightmares like the ones she usually got ever since Yamatai. It had all worked so well, she’d been close to leaving but then Kassandra had to look at her like  _that_ with those emotions twirling in her eyes and all that smoldering guilt, before she opened her big mouth and asked Lara if she was  _okay_.

Lara was not  _okay_.

Lara also didn’t want to think about how  _not okay_ she was, and Kassandra shouldn’t be asking this question because she had no bloody idea how to answer.

She was covered in blood, in mud and every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Melete’s headless corpse falling on her.

Lara nodded, she couldn’t speak. The numbness was starting to chip away slowly, and she was acutely aware of the brewing emotions raging inside of her. The scary ones. The ones that made her lose control and lash out.

“Your face,” Kassandra took a step forward, reaching out for her.

Lara recoiled, “I’m fine, it’s not mine.”

Melete. It was Melete’s.

“Did he hurt you?” Kassandra tried again.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up_.

The young woman blinked, looking at her like she didn’t understand the question. Kassandra had to stop, she had to stop right now or Lara would snap. “I told you, it’s not mine.”

Melete. Her gray eyes and childlike grin. Too young to die.

“I’m sorry,” Kassandra muttered quietly. “I should have been faster, I could have…”

She felt the cracks within. The rage seeping through them like hot lava, stroking the fire. The hire.

“The Cult,” Lara said only half-listening to her apologies. “It was the Cult.”

“Yes.”

They were hunting Kassandra. But Kassandra wasn’t there. They hadn’t come for her. They targeted the Daughters. Her brain was in overdrive, going over the information, piecing them back like some twisted jigsaw puzzle.

_“Your gift awaits…”_

“Iokaste...” her eyes narrowed. She should have known. Her hunch was never wrong. That reptilian part of her brain that Yamatai had awakened, and enhanced. It had screamed danger the very first second the traitor had leveled her eyes on Lara. “Iokaste is with the Cult.”

Kassandra’s nod was meek.

_That settles it then_ , the thought formed in her mind.  _The pyre is going to welcome an extra body_.

She started walking towards the exit, but Kassandra’s hand on her wrist stopped her. “You can’t, Lara.”

Like hell she couldn’t.

The woman bristled. “Let go of me, Kassandra.”

It was Melete’s blood. Melete who didn’t do anything wrong. Melete who died because she was in the way of a sword.

Because of Iokaste.

“No,” she said. “We need to leave, there’s no tim—”

“I said, let go.”

Kassandra tensed, looking surprised. She knew. They were both fighters, and the tension radiating from Lara was sending her a clear message. Fight or flight. No discussion. The young woman wouldn’t hurt her, not even in this state. But she could incapacitate her and she wouldn’t hesitate to do so.

Kassandra’s hand didn’t move. Lara felt her gaze, assessing, considering. She tried to reason with her again. “This isn’t your kill.”

_Fight_.

Lara had heard enough, she swatted her hand away and slithered past her, trying to make a run for it before Kassandra caught up with her. She shoved Lara on a wall and blocked her path with her body. “Stop,” but the archeologist didn’t listen, pushing her back and moving out of reach again.

_Fight_.

Kassandra had to tackle and wrestle her down, taking blows in the process. “Lara, stop,” she grabbed her hands, forcing them down between their bodies and bringing their faces close.  _“Stop it!”_

Her shout echoed in the cave.

They were both breathing heavily, but at least Lara wasn’t squirming anymore. Something slick and wet was dampening her pants. Kassandra’s wound had started bleeding again because of their scuffle.

“Don’t you think I want to eviscerate her?” she snarled. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t want to make her suffer?” her words came in harsh puffs of air. “She tortured my brother, she’s the reason he turned into this beast. She tried to kill Daphnae, to kill you. You think I don’t want to make her pay?” Kassandra took a deep breath, wincing. “But this isn’t your kill, and this isn’t mine. Not this time”

Lara shook her head. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?” eyes narrowed. “Let’s go to Mykonos, my friend needs help,” she started wiggling again. “Go to Chios, Lara, you’ll be safe there,” she freed her hands and swatted at Kassandra, forcing her to pull away as they stood up. “Safe, my arse! It was never about my safety!”

Kassandra was staring at her with wide eyes. She opened her mouth, closed it. Opened it again. Words kept eluding her: “I—”

Lara took a step forward, waving her hands. “I am  _not_  your sodding puppet!” she stopped herself, frowning at the ground for a second before shaking her head and scoffing. “That’s why you sent me here, isn’t it?” Lara shoved her against the wall. “To save her?”

Kassandra took the blow, staggering backwards. Her head hung low. “I didn’t know it w—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Lara noticed how her voice was quivering at the end and she hated every second of it. How it made her feel small, helpless and with so much inexpressible rage. “Don’t you lie to me again,” her heart was beating fast, too fast, like it wanted to tear her ribcage away. “Say it!”

Kassandra’s eyes were brimming, tears ready to fall at a blink. “I’m not. I didn’t know it would happen now, I swear to yo—”

“Lara?”

They both tensed, staring at each other for a second before Kassandra reacted.

“Shit,” she grabbed the mask and shoved it on her head.

Lara took the cloak and threw it at her. Kassandra had just enough time to put on the hood and close the lapels before Daphnae’s shadow rounded the corner.

“I’m here,” the archeologist said after taking a deep breath and standing in front of Kassandra. No need to panic. There was no need to panic.

“I heard shouting,” Daphnae finally appeared, sheathing her sword. She came to a halt in front of them. Her eyes flickered between the women before stopping on Kassandra’s frozen form.

Lara needed an out right now. “My… friend got hurt during the battles and I...”

“…Your… friend,” the huntress repeated absentmindedly. She hadn’t let Kassandra out of her sight.

Lara winced, this was going horribly, she could feel the tension radiating from Kassandra just behind her. “I helped her with her wounds,” she stammered. “She’ll… she will leave soon.”

She heard Kassandra’s breath itch. Although her face remained impassive, the emotional turmoil twirling in Daphnae’s eyes was quite obvious; like she did not know what to feel. She closed them, then refocused on Lara. “We will begin the funerals soon.”

The archeologist nodded slowly. “I’ll be there.”

Daphnae turned and left without a word. Lara made sure to wait until she wasn’t within earshot to speak, switching back to English. “Do you think she recognized you?”

Kassandra removed the mask and sighed. “She knew the moment I stepped onto the battlefield. Not your fault.”

Lara frowned. “Will she…” she trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

_Will she tell the others?_

_Will she try to kill you?_

“No,” she said resolutely. “She won’t,” not if Kassandra didn’t give her a reason to. “I can’t stay here,” she turned around, gathering her things in a bag. “Meet me at the port when you’re ready.”

 

-0-

The Daughters didn’t pray.

They sang.

They sang their fallen sisters into Elysium. With quivers in their voices and tear streaked cheeks, they sang. For days, they sang until the black smoke turned white, until their eyes were dry and swollen and closed shut, until their grief rose as high as the smoke and caressed the clouds. Until fatigue stole their voices and all that could be heard was the rhythmic pounding of _tympanons_ , like a low heartbeat.

Lara stayed with them through it all. Holding Agneta who refused to lie down or sit to relieve her remaining leg, her huge arms swung around Lara’s shoulders as she wept quietly.

Daphnae hadn’t spoken to her, it almost seemed that she was avoiding her on purpose. Iokaste stayed conspicuously close to their leader as well, which didn’t help.

What would happen once Lara left? The Cult wasn’t likely to launch another attack so soon, but as long as Iokaste breathed, Daphnae was in danger. Something inside her was screaming at her to forgo Kassandra’s request, to take matters into her own hands and kill the Cultist bare-handed. Another part was telling her to wait, to trust Kassandra’s words, that there would be retribution for people who killed their own kin. She’d been living in a bubble, all those months. A bubble that had crashed and burned with the ashes of the Daughters.

Kassandra was right, it wasn’t her kill. She didn’t belong, hell, she hadn’t been anointed yet.

Lara needed to go and face the other woman again. The thought was enough to make her anxiety skyrocket. She hadn’t meant to say all those things, not like this at least. It had been a while since her last outburst, years even. Her words, however raw and abrasive, had truth in them; Kassandra had strung her along, only throwing crumbs of information as she saw fit and that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. Lara had been right to say it. The delivery… could have used some more finesse.

She was going to apologize for snapping at Kassandra (and hitting her. The hitting was bad), but not for what she said.  

Her decision made, Lara waited until nightfall to pack. By some miracle, only half of her hut had been destroyed in the fires, she’d managed to retrieve her (meager) belongings almost intact. The smell of burning straw wafted off the pages of her journal every time she opened it, but at least it hadn’t gone down in flames.

She left the boons near Agneta’s bedroll before sneaking out of their shared tent. Her heart was heavy with sorrow when she closed the flaps, but she knew she couldn’t say her goodbyes. They wouldn’t understand. The Daughters had already lost too much.

The small camp was asleep, save for the pathfinders patrolling with their wolves. Lara climbed up a tree and slipped out of the camp from above, swinging from branch to branch until it was safe to set foot on the ground again. She walked silently, following the path that led to the fisherman village.

“You are leaving us,” Daphnae’s voice materialized behind her.

Lara tensed, closing her eyes and biting her lip. She turned around slowly. “I can’t stay,” lying would be pointless, the other woman would see right through it.

Daphnae stared at her for a long while, the small torch she held was casting her face in a warm hue. “You know what happens to those who leave?”

_They shall be nothing to us as they were before_ , the words echoed in her head. “I know.”

“And yet,” her head tilted, brows creased in a frown. “You are willing to choose her.”

Daphnae was not asking, just making sure the other woman understood the meaning of her choice and its consequences.

Lara held her gaze. She knew she would lose a lot; Agneta, the pathfinder and her bloody wolves. Melete’s memory she would cherish, tuck it away with the others in the confines of her heart to revisit. Her voice didn’t waver, she didn’t hesitate. Her choice had been made for a while. “I am.”

Something akin to gratitude - relief perhaps - passed in Daphnae’s eyes, sadness followed in quick succession, resignation, and then, finally nothing. Her features were blank, her walls up. “Leave,” she ordered, her eyes holding none of the warmth and pride they’d had only a few days ago. “You know what will happen if you come back.”

The archeologist bowed and walked away, feeling Daphnae’s eyes on her the whole time.

The sun was rising in the horizon when she reached the village, warm shades of tangerine and pink hues were chasing away the harsh blues of the winter night. Lara entered the inn, greeted by the same half-blind woman who had offered her shelter when she’d first arrived. Her smile was gentle as she gave her two bowls of the lentil soup she had made.

“One for you, and one for the big man upstairs,” she said, adding a loaf of bread and some honey despite Lara’s protestations. “A storm is coming, this gentle soul fixed my roof and helped fill the pantry. He refused to take payment, this is the least I can do,” she chuckled and shooed the young woman up the stairs.

She stood at the door for a long while, balancing everything on one hand, the other halfway up and ready to knock.  _Come on, Croft_ , Lara took a deep breath, willing her heart to stop its rapid beating.

The door opened after the third knock, ajar, Kassandra peeking out before pushing it the rest of the way. “Hi…” her voice was hoarse, dried by the lack of use. She stepped aside, flicking at her loose hair. It was still damp.

“Hi,” she said and bypassed the steaming pot of water near the door. “The owner gave me these,” Lara motioned at her hand and walked in to put everything on the small table before turning around and leaning on it. She started fidgeting with her fingers, feeling awkward. “Said you fixed her roof.”

Kassandra had walked back to one of the beds, the one littered with garbs of armor. “A storm is coming,” she put on the chain gauntlets first, “She’s blind, she needed it,” then the  _pteryges_ above her chiton, fixing the shoulder straps and tightening the belt with a soft  _clink_.

Lara observed her the whole time, words stuck in her throat. It wasn’t until Kassandra had sat down to put on the greaves that she forced them out. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Kassandra’s fingers came to a halt mid-knot before resuming. “You were right to,” she didn’t look up and switched to the other leg.

“I—”

“Lara,” she cut her off and stood up, facing her. “You have every right to be angry. Everything you said is…” she blinked, and shook her head. “I hid a lot of things from you…” her shoulders rose and fell with her sigh. “It’s… not because I don’t trust you, I do,” she looked away and started pacing. “I convinced myself I was doing it to protect you.”

_Bollocks._  Lara wanted to scoff. Kassandra needed to stop with the pro—

“And before you say something,” her hand rose, halting the archeologist’s thoughts. “I  _know,_ ” she walked to the window and stopped there. “The truth is…” it would be easier to say it to the horizon. “I am doing it to protect myself.”

Lara crossed her arms, brow creasing in a frown. This didn’t make sense. “From me?” she asked, tentatively when the other woman didn’t speak.

Kassandra turned her head, a gentle smile on her face. “You have no idea,” the morning light reflected on her eyes, they appeared more golden than brown. “How much you scare me,” she pivoted and started pacing again. “What happens once you know everything?” she said out loud, more to herself than anything. “What happens then? When you decide you’ve had enough of me?”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Lara blurted, forcing the other woman to a stop. “I’ve said it before.” Kassandra’s eyes bore into hers, the walls were crumbling within, chipping away with her words, she could see it. “I’m not leaving you,” she repeated. “But I want you to be honest with me. Completely honest.”

Kassandra’s face hardened, her hands balling into fists, the walls coming back up, brick by brick. “It’s not… easy.”

Lara nodded, conceding. “I didn’t say it was easy,” she peeled herself off the table and approached the other woman slowly. “But I need you to try. Please.” her hand fell on Kassandra’s forearm. She couldn’t feel her skin with the gauntlet on.

They stood, facing each other for a long while. The dip near Kassandra’s lip creasing as her teeth kept chewing on the inside of it. “Give me some time,” she lowered her eyes, looking at her feet. “I just need time.”

Fair enough.

“Of course,” the archeologist smiled, letting her hand fall before she stepped away towards the table. The resonating sigh of relief made her chuckle.

She could tell Kassandra felt a lot lighter, and so did she. But there was another thing she needed to do. Lara wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t try at least. Her fingers wrapped on the chair.

“You…” she bit her lip, frowning at the bowls of lukewarm soup. “You should go talk to Daphnae,” the words scorched her mouth on their way out. _It’s the right thing to do. The right thing._ They needed it. Lara lifted her head, forcing herself to hold Kassandra’s gaze. “Before we leave.”

Kassandra tensed and shook her head immediately. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Lara powered through, white-knuckled on the chair. “I think it is,” she told her. “I think you need it, both of you.”

But Kassandra was just as stubborn and making this even harder with her bullheaded refusal. “You know what happened,” the archeologist’s nod was meek. “There’s nothing else to say, then. Talking won’t change anything. It’s done,” she walked to the bed again, draping the cloak on her shoulders somewhat abruptly.

“Closure,” Lara said to the table. “For her, it’s been four, maybe five years,” she breathed out, looking back at her. “But it’s been millennia for you,” she shook her head when Kassandra opened her mouth, gesturing for her to wait. “You  _need_  to talk to her,” her smile was weak and forced. “I’ll wait here.”

Silence hung between them for a while, Kassandra alternated between frowning at her hands and glaring at her feet while chewing on the inside of her cheek again. Lara didn’t move, she kept staring at the table and focusing on her breathing. Something was churning and stomping inside of her.

_You’re making a mistake,_  it said.  _You don’t want that._

No matter how many times she tried to tune it out, it would come blaring at her again.  _Tell her the truth. Tell her._

“… Are you sure?” Kassandra’s voice was weak, timid.

_No._

“Yes,” she said to the table again. “Go,” before forcing another smile. “I will wait for you.”

Kassandra nodded, walking around the table to take her in a hug. It only lasted a few seconds, a ‘thank you’ whispered in her hair and a small comforting squeeze before she pulled away.

Watching her go, from the window, Lara felt a twinge in her heart. Some kind of uncomfortable tightness in her ribcage.

_You’re making a mistake,_  it said again.  _You don’t want her to leave. You’re making a mistake._

She frowned, rubbing at her chest.

_Tell her. Tell her to stay. Tell her you want her to stay with you._

_Tell her._

Lara didn’t move.

 

-0-

The bird mosaic on the left wall had three thousand nine hundred and forty-two pieces. Lara had counted.

Five times.

Three thousand nine hundred forty-two and a half actually. One of them was chipped near the eyes.

The first day, she busied herself with packing Kassandra’s things. The night was spent glaring at the wall until the first chirps of the birds that hadn’t migrated yet drew her out of her musings. Worry had gnawed at her the second day, and night. By the third, she had studied every single corner of the room and could draw it with her eyes closed.

Three thousand nine hundred and forty-two pieces. And a half.

Lara was itching to get out and find Kassandra herself, had been close to doing it three times before she huffed and sulked back to the bed. Three times. She was halfway through the fourth attempt when the storm struck and definitely put an end to it. There was no going out in this rain and wind. She wouldn’t see past her nose.

Lara closed her eyes, listening to the raging thunder outside. The planks were doing a poor job at buffering the howling wind, but at least they sheltered the room from the rain and left it mostly dry.

 The first knock coincided with a vicious bout of thunder that made the archeologist startle and gasp quietly. She scrambled to her feet, almost throwing herself at the door. “He— _mmhph,”_ Kassandra landed heavily on her, forcing Lara to take a few steps back and lower both of them to the ground.

The woman was completely drenched, her skin pallid, filled with goosebumps. Lara panicked, shifting her around to have a look at her face. “Kassandra?” her red-rimmed eyes were unfocused, fluttering and drifting everywhere. Lara cradled her face in her hands. “W-what happened?” she was burning up, arms and legs riddled with small scraps. There was a hole in the leather of her  _linothorax,_  just above the lung.

Kassandra’s nostrils flared with her breathing; water sputtered out of her mouth when she tried to speak. “I did…” she coughed; her face contorted in pain. “I did what you asked.”

She gave Daphnae closure.

In death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … not really how you imagined their reunion going, uh? Jealous Lara is deliciously jealous.
> 
> We’ll be traveling a little next chapter.
> 
> Might be weird, but the one thing I really loved about Shadow was the stealth. Like how Lara would use the environment to her advantage and yes I’ve strung out guys from trees every time I could. Had to put it in this fic.
> 
> Also SE did us dirty. They released a definitive version of Shadow with a new outfit (Croft fitness, a nod to OG Lara’s lounging attire in the manor) that actually show Lara’s midriff… you’d think they’d have, you know, added the scar from Yamatai from that one iconic scene of the game? Nope.  
> Not at all.  
> Well fuck you SE. Since you can’t keep up with your own continuity, I’ll do it for you and I’m just going to make this thing even gayer.


	15. Chapitre Quinze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I could start this AN by cursing to high heavens like I usually do, but... I'm just, I mean it's been days now and I still can't believe it. From the bottom of my heart, thank you :) I'm floored by last chapter's reception; it was so unexpected. Thank you a thousand times for engaging with me and sharing your thoughts. I'm terribly humbled and I hope you guys will stay around to see the end of this. Once again, thank you. 
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta who does an amazing job working on this with me. They deserve all the praise, they really do.
> 
> I know a lot of you were confused as to what happened at the end of last chapter, so this will shed some light. This one is a bit shorter than usual, you'll understand why. I apologize for the length, though.

 

 

The Gods certainly had a sense of humor.  

Daphnae had wondered for the longest time what she’d done in her previous life to deserve their wrath. The Gods, she knew, were keen on toying with mortals to ward off the ennui of living on Mount Olympus. They would strike up thunderstorms, giant waves, raise and shake Gaïa’s grounds, when they weren’t walking among humans to trick them. Some said the Gods envy mortals, but Daphnae never understood why. Mortals were fickle things, slaves to their desires and fragile. 

Why would a God envy fragility?   

A trick, that’s what she thought Kassandra to be at first. Artemis had sent her legendary beasts for a Champion to slay, and now Athena herself had fallen from the sky to stand in front of her, wearing mismatched pieces of armor and a sly smirk. A traveler, she’d called herself.  

 _Liar,_ had been Daphnae’s first thought. _Beautiful liar._  

For the longest time, she thought of Kassandra as a deity. How couldn’t she be? The finesse of her fighting, the accuracy of her strikes, how she always seemed to come back to her unscathed despite facing beasts and battles that would kill even the bravest of men. A lost Goddess roaming the world in search of adventure. 

A deity that had somehow taken a liking to Daphnae. 

As the months and then years flew by, Kassandra always came back to her with a new pelt, her head filled with tales to share. 

Their first kiss had been a spur of the moment, an unsubtle ploy Daphnae had willfully set up. A reward for killing the Lykaon wolf. Another lie she told herself to justify her growing interest in her future opponent.  

Their second kiss had happened months later, under the stars. Kassandra had been talking about something... Daphnae couldn’t recall what it was exactly. She’d been too entranced by her lips, her profile to pay attention to the words coming out of her mouth. She was no stranger to desire, to attraction and the yearnings of carnal nature. Artemis had always been merciful enough to make her rise above it, but no matter her prayers that night, Daphnae couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to.  

She had longed to indulge and taste those lips again, to see if they felt as soft and warm as the first time. And she did indulge when Kassandra turned her head - an eyebrow raised at the huntress' prolonged mutism.  

A sharp inhale later, Daphnae had felt Kassandra's grin on her lips before fingers retraced her jaw gently, almost reverent in their caresses when she kissed her back.  

She had expected hazel eyes to shine with mischief, maybe a smug smile, anything to remind her that she was weak. That, like any other mortal, she’d given in the barest of instincts. But the woman never ceased to surprise her. What she saw in those eyes was a glint of nervousness, something fragile and vulnerable buried underneath a smokescreen of bravado.  

“Why did you do that?”  

The question had thrown Daphnae off. Its blunt honesty and Kassandra’s slight frown had been enough to render her speechless.  

Her cheeks had flushed with embarrassment as she tried to apologize, but Kassandra hadn’t let her. 

“Just tell me why you did it,” she’d asked again. There was something dangerous in her eyes, something guarded and intense, hiding a flicker of hope that didn’t dare speak its name. Daphnae had had no choice but to tell the truth. 

“You haven’t left my thoughts...” she cleared her throat, her eyes flickering between Kassandra’s lips and eyes. “Artemis as my witness, I have tried to push you away,” she had hunted and prayed and hunted like never before. Asking for guidance and making offerings like her life depended on it. “But you haunt me, Beast Slayer. Your eyes, your smile, I...” she swallowed the lump of apprehension in her throat. “I see them in my sleep. I think of you, always.” 

 _You have cursed me,_  the words on the verge of her lips. _You have cursed me and I wouldn’t have it any other way._  

Kassandra had looked at her then, surprise etched her face, followed by pure unadulterated delight that had made Daphnae’s heart soar just as much as the words she had muttered shyly:  

“Me too.” 

They had been happy, extremely so. Happy to the point Daphnae sometimes forgot about the trials and the ways of her people, happy to the point she no longer thought of Kassandra as a deity gracing Earth with her presence. 

Kassandra was human. Kassandra had doubts, dreams of reuniting her family and the biggest heart Daphnae had ever known.  

And Kassandra loved her. Kassandra loved her fiercely enough to defy Artemis and refuse her last trial.  

“Malákes traditions!” she had flailed her arms wildly. “I will not take the life of someone respect,” her voice quivered with emotion despite the anger lacing her words. “Someone I admire, someone I love,” she had grabbed her spear and thrown it on the wet grass at the huntress’ feet. “I won’t do it.” 

Hearing her sisters’ shocked gasps, Daphnae had let fury consume her, to spare her heart, to force Kassandra’s hand. “You would spit in the eyes of the Gods?!” 

 _Please don't make me do it. I beg you. I can’t._  

“For you, yes,” Kassandra didn’t relent, coming to a halt in front of the huntress. “Daphnae, please…” she had kissed her with so much desperation that for a moment, Daphnae wanted nothing but to capture that moment and never let her go. “Come with me.” 

The Gods were cruel.  

Cruel enough that she still saw those hazel eyes and that smile in her sleep, years after she’d pushed Kassandra away for the last time. Cruel enough to make her heart pound with worry when she heard whispers of the Eagle Bearer almost meeting Charon at the blade of a foreigner. Cruel enough to have that same foreigner come to her for help.  

Lara was destined for greatness. She had known the moment their eyes met. There was something in her, the same thing that had animated Kassandra. Daphnae had shut out the little voice in her head warning her that Lara didn’t belong, that she would leave one day, disappear, like Kassandra had. They were both destined for greatness, after all. Greatness far more rewarding than being part of the Daughters of Artemis. More rewarding than leading them, even.

The first time Daphnae thought herself hearing Kassandra’s voice again, she had been convinced that it was an illusion fabricated by her exhausted mind. Swirling with images of her Sisters’ demise at the hands of Deimos and the men under his command, the cloaked figure ( _Kassandra, it was Kassandra,_ her heart had known right away), standing above her, taking a spear meant for her had seemed so unreal.

The voice had spoken in a foreign tongue - the same language Lara sometimes used when she muttered to herself. Daphnae had thought it to be a trick, but she would recognize those inflections - that voice - anywhere, even years later, even as it spoke obscure words.  

It wasn’t until she had heard her screaming in agony that the huntress’ feet led her back to the cave, sword in hand, though she hadn’t dared to enter.  

“Maláka,” she’d heard her say, eavesdropping like some lowly silver tongue. It was Kassandra, there was no doubt about it. Daphnae had heard her curse enough times to know. She had switched back to the foreign language again. The huntress couldn’t understand a word, her brow creased in a frown, worrying at her lips. She was torn, a force pulling her towards the cave (oh, how desperately she wanted to see) while her mind fought to keep her still. 

They kept talking in hushed voices; the exhaustion palpable in Kassandra’s tone. Daphnae hadn’t moved, her hand balled into a fist when she heard their scuffling. 

Kassandra’s raised voice had made her pause again. The distress in her tone as she spoke, Daphnae had heard only once before; when she had refused her last trial. Whatever Kassandra said hadn’t eased Lara’s anger. Daphnae couldn’t stand idle any longer, the huntress had announced her presence before walking in the cave. 

Lara couldn’t lie if her life depended on it. The thought was oddly comforting, though Daphnae hadn’t been able to tear her gaze away from the figure behind her ( _it’s Kassandra, it’s Kassandra,_ the words kept dancing in her head). Kassandra was right there, just a touch away.  

Daphnae had fled. Ran away like a coward back to the camp, eyes blurred by emotion and heart doing somersaults in her ribcage. She had gone through the motions, preparing her fallen sisters for the Underworld and shoving her feelings away. She even avoided Lara, despite her many attempts to seek Daphnae.  

She didn’t have the courage to face her. It was too hard. 

A friend, she’d called Kassandra a friend. How long had they known each other?  

Did it mean that the tales of Lara beating the Eagle Bearer were false?  

Had they both come up with this scheme together… to save Daphnae from Deimos?  

The questions kept taunting her that night, robbing the huntress’ rest. She ambled, aimless, under the guise of patrolling, just in time to see Lara climb up a tree and sneak out.  

Their last talk had torn Daphnae’s heart. Here she was, a foreigner from nowhere, not bound by ancestral traditions, free to follow her own path and make her own life. Free and bold enough to do what Daphnae never had the bravery to.  

To choose Kassandra.  

“Leave,” her voice had been harsh but her heart had been weeping. “You know what will happen if you come back.” 

 _Please, take care of her_.  

Daphnae had wandered again, her feet leading her to the temple after Lara walked away. She stayed there until sunrise, looking for guidance and sending prayers for her sisters' safe passage.  

She left when dawn brought the first chirping of birds, breath fogged by the early morning mist as her feet guided her towards the edge of the forest, to the highest cliff overlooking the raging sea on the northern coast. Lesbos stood in the distance, visible through the brume if one squinted.  

Daphnae did squint, thinking it to be another trick of her mind. She blinked several times over, every time opening her eyes to the same image of Kassandra standing in front of her, nervous and fidgety, with no mask on. Her hair loose for the wind to play with.  

She looked different. Weary, older somehow, yet her face hadn’t aged a day.  

“Hello, Daphnae,” she wet her lips, “Long time no see,” before they stretched in an awkward grimace of a smile. 

Daphnae couldn’t talk, the words were stuck at the back of her throat; she looked around them quickly.  

“I don’t think they—” 

“You shouldn’t be here,” was the first thing that came out of her mouth. Daphnae wanted to slap herself when Kassandra’s face fell.  

“I know,” she mumbled, eyes downcast.  

Daphnae chewed on the inside of her lip until she drew blood. Her mind was screaming, urging her to close the distance, to grab Kassandra’s cheeks and kiss the sadness out of her face. She closed her eyes for a long while. _Please, let this be a dream..._ the woman was still there when she opened them.  

“You saved me,” she blurted, surprising both Kassandra and herself.  

 _Why?_ Is what her words were saying. 

Kassandra lifted her head. “Do you really need to ask?” her smile was nervous, still. “I couldn’t let you...” she trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. 

 _I couldn’t let you die._  

She wanted to take that step. “Did you send her to help us?” Daphnae paused again, uncertain. “Your… friend?”  

Kassandra shrugged, her gaze flickering away. “Not exactly,” her foot kept shifting on the ground, like she wanted to leave but forced herself to stay. “She was wanted. I knew you could keep her safe,” Daphnae saw her throat bob. She hadn’t meant to reveal that part.  

 _Keep her safe._  

Her silence spoke volumes.  

It hurt, just like Lara’s words had hurt.  

“She is… nice.”  Daphnae said, noticing how hazel eyes blinked at her. “Where did you find her?” 

A smile appeared on Kassandra’s face, not the nervous, stilted one the woman had been sporting until now. Something small, tentative but genuine. “She found me, more like.” 

It hurt. 

The huntress nodded, slowly. She watched as Kassandra turned away from her, walking to the edge of the cliff and flopped down. 

Wordlessly; she gave Daphnae a choice; she could leave - walk away and never turn back, or she could kill Kassandra… making true on the promise uttered all those years ago.  

Daphnae’s heart beat too fast in her chest, blood rushing through her veins and drowning out the sound of waves crashing against the rocks further down. She didn’t make a sound when she approached the edge. Blinking, she could see herself grabbing Kassandra’s chin, raising it upward before slicing through. The gurgle and the blood, the body flopping over the edge to land in the sea.  

Daphnae shook her head, chasing the images away. She sat down next to Kassandra, noticed how her eyes were jammed shut expectantly, the tension in her shoulders. They always understood one another. The fleeting thought that had passed over Daphnae, Kassandra had experienced it too.  

She swallowed, her fingers crawling ever so slowly until they reached Kassandra’s hand on her knee. The touch she’d been craving all those years, both familiar and foreign. Calluses she knew by heart, the small, barely noticeable crevasses of scars long healed. The crease between her thumb and index finger; Ikaros pecking a hole there when he was just an eaglet and not yet trained to show his disapproval another way.  

It was comforting.  

Kassandra squeezed back, looking at the horizon as the huntress kept watching her.  

“I’ve wanted to hate you,” she said, barely a whisper. “For so long I’ve wanted to hate you.”  

Daphnae winced, taking the blows in silence.  

Kassandra’s eyes hadn’t left the horizon. “I’ve had a lot of time to think,” her smile was rueful. “More than you can imagine,” she finally lowered her gaze, pausing for a long while before the words left her mouth, “You... you loved me too, right?” 

_Was it real?_

She had asked the question at their intertwined fingers and it broke Daphnae’s heart. “More than anything on this Earth,” she whispered, tears already seeping through her voice. “Never doubt it, Kassandra.”  

“Then why…” she shook her head. “We were happy,” Kassandra shifted, facing Daphnae. “We could have been happy, right?”  

The shine in her eyes, the emotions swirling within... Daphnae blinked her own tears away. “We were. Very much so.”  

“Wasn’t it enough?” Kassandra’s eyes pierced through her. Her words stabbing at the huntress' heart. “Why wasn’t I enough?” 

 _Why didn’t you choose me?_   

That poor, heartbroken fool.  

Daphnae shook her head, allowing herself to cradle Kassandra’s face in her hands. “I chose you,” she pressed their foreheads together. “I chose you when I let you go. I chose you when I went against my people’s way. I chose you,” her cheeks were wet, her lips quivering. “But I can’t be with you.” 

Artemis wouldn’t allow it. Daphnae’s life wasn’t her own, she gave up that privilege the day she pledged herself to the Goddess. Often, she wondered if things could have been different, on days when doubts and heartbreak had plagued her heart. Would she have met Kassandra, had she not been a Daughter? Would they have fallen in love?  

Would Daphnae have followed her heart? 

Kassandra’s breath came in small shaky puffs of air against her lips. Only a tilt, it would take only a tilt to close the distance and kiss her. Something cold pressed against her lap, she tensed, drawing away from the woman to look down.  

“I’ve chained you to my fate for too long,” Kassandra took one of Daphnae’s hands, cradling it, kissing the inside of her wrist. “I have to let you go.”  

Daphnae swallowed when the woman pressed the cold weight in her hand. A shudder rippled through her body. “I can’t...” she whined, closing her eyes when she felt Kassandra’s hand on her own, fingers intertwining as they took the grip, together.  

Kassandra sniffled. “You’ll always be in my heart, Daphnae. Always,” she forced a smile. “Think of me sometimes, okay?” 

The huntress was already sobbing, her hand shaking in Kassandra’s. “Always.” 

Kassandra sighed shakily. “Promise me you’ll live?” she cradled Daphnae’s cheek with her other hand, wiping away the tears with her thumb. “Promise me.” 

“Kassand—” 

“Promise me, Daphnae,” she insisted. “Lead your sisters and stay away from the Cult.” 

The huntress breathed and nodded. “I promise you,” she looked her in the eyes. “I promise.” 

“Good,” Kassandra’s smile was weak. “I... I shouldn’t tell you this,” her eyes flickered downward at their joined hands on the knife. “There will be a price to pay, I believe, but...” she looked back up. “Don’t trust Iokaste.” 

Daphnae could only nod. She had suspected as much, but with no evidence to back it up, except for the huntress’ sudden disappearance during the battles, she couldn’t talk to her sisters about it. Now she understood why Lara had sought her out during the funerals. The woman had wanted to warn her as well. “I will be careful,” she felt Kassandra squeeze her hand, drawing it closer to her body and froze. “Wait.” 

The end of the blade was pressing on the woman’s _linothorax_. “What is it?” 

Daphnae searched her eyes for a long while before she dared to ask. “Will I ever see you again?”  

Kassandra stared at her, shaking her head slowly. “Not me.” 

The words hung between them, thick with meaning. The only satisfaction Daphnae would get, knowing the Eagle Bearer would be there, somewhere, forever out of reach. She shut her eyes, feeling Kassandra’s hand squeeze hers again. “I can’t...” she whispered.  

A touch of lips, quivering and hesitant, feeling Kassandra’s trembling breath on her cheek when Daphnae kissed back with all her might, open-mouthed, steeped by a passion that had never left.  

Kassandra’s hiccup was the only indication of what happened. Another kiss, gentler and soothing, to say goodbye. Feeling Kassandra’s hand curl around hers and the sinking knife, trembling hands, shaky breath when she pulled away. Her eyes were a clear amber, brimming with sorrow but peaceful. 

“You’re free now.” 

Daphnae’s fingers were wet, mingled with tears and blood. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape. “N...”  

“Can you help me up?” Kassandra cut her off, stifling her plea. Her smile weak and her tone breezy. “Please?”  

Daphnae was frozen, her arm curled around the waist of the woman’s rapidly fading body. It took a few attempts for Kassandra to stand upright, by then her breathing was already wheezy. The camp was too far, even if they ran, she wouldn’t make it; realization dawned on the huntress.  

 _You killed her..._ her eyes downcast at her stained hands. _You just killed her..._  

“Daphnae,” Kassandra rasped. She hadn’t been aware she’d started shaking. “I don’t...” hazel eyes flickered away for a second. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” she followed Kassandra’s gaze over the horizon. “Please.” 

“Kassandra...”  

Her coughing made Daphnae stop. “Please,” she said again, turning towards her one last time. “Remember what I told you,” her lips tugged upward again. “Live. For me.”  

Daphnae closed her eyes when Kassandra pressed another kiss to her lips. She let the huntress' arm hang loose around her neck, before putting her palm on Daphnae’s front and pushing her away gently.  

Daphnae walked backwards until the foliage, trees and her own blurry eyes blocked the view. She didn’t see anything, but heard it all. The rasped breathing, the grunt when Kassandra took out the knife, the flapping of her cloak in the wind as she walked to the edge of the cliff and fell to her death. 

 

* * *

 

It turned out that getting on a ship with a barely-healed hole in your lung was a bad idea. A terrible one that left Kassandra wheezing painfully during the day and retching her guts overboard at night.  

When she wasn’t staring blankly at the wall for literal hours, that was.  

Lara had no idea how to handle the situation. When Sam got contemplative after a fallout over a stillborn relationship with a bloke, she usually dragged her out to their favorite Delhi for a needed girl talk-slash-vent session that inadvertently ended back at their shared flat with the archeologist demonstrating all her cocktail-making skills while listening to Sam drunk-cursing the man down three generations.  

Being a barmaid had its perks.   

There was no Delhi here, but the Greeks did grow celery and tomatoes, so technically she could make a Bloody Mary…  

She wasn’t even sure Kassandra liked Bloody Marys. She had only seen her drink variations of Greek wines or Belgian beers back in Sparta. No hard liquor and no cocktails. Such a snob, she was. 

Alcohol was probably out of the question anyway, given her state. 

_What are you even thinking about?_

The woman’s half-cough drew her out of her musings, Lara jumped to her feet, taking the few steps that separated their bedrolls. “How are you feeling?” 

It had been more than two weeks since they left Chios and Kassandra had barely recovered. The regenerative process never took so long and Lara had no idea what was happening. It was worrisome.

“Peachy,” Kassandra gritted out, flopping awkwardly to the side of her collapsed lung and groaning in pain when she realized her mistake.  

Lara grabbed Kassandra’s shoulder, and shifted her to lie on her back slowly. The motion must have hurt; her lower lip was trapped between her teeth. “Try not to move.”  

That was one useless advice if she ever heard one. Kassandra came to the same conclusion, quirking her eyebrow in a way that spoke volumes.  

Lara winced. “Sorry.” 

They had embarked on a ship to Athens when the raging storm had calmed, a few hours after a half-conscious Kassandra had barged into the room she’d rented on Chios. The woman had refused to listen to Lara’s concerns and pleas to stay one more day and had frantically dragged her way to the port, walking on wobbly legs with one idea in mind: to get as far away from the island as quickly as possible.

Kassandra had found them the biggest ship and filled the captain’s pouch with more drachmae than he had ever seen in exchange for a private space in the ship’s hold, not caring if the crew needed to throw merchandise overboard to do so. 

“Where did you find all that money?” Lara had asked, moving crates of wool and metal around to make room.  

“Sparta,” her response was flat. “Took it from the general who wanted your head. He won’t be needing the drachmae.” 

Two weeks had passed and Kassandra hadn’t said more than three words in a row. Lara distracted herself as best as she could; after blackening her journal, the archeologist had taken on opening the crates to fold the wool and clothes in perfect little squares. Her restlessness contrasted with the other woman’s inertia.  

Lara gave her another week. By the end of it, she promised herself that she would take matters into her own hands, sit Kassandra down and speak to her. They couldn’t go on like this, and she was too tired to walk on eggshells any longer. She understood that whatever had happened with Daphnae would stay between them and Lara wouldn’t pry; but Kassandra needed to get out of her funk. Dealing with a barely conscious husk was exhausting.  

Those thoughts were usually followed by an overwhelming wave of guilt. Lara should have listened when the woman told her it was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have insisted.  

Kassandra wouldn’t be in this state if she had kept her mouth shut.  

Fate decided to push her luck a little a few days later, in the most excruciating way for Kassandra, whose coughing and wheezing startled the archeologist awake in the middle of the night. The grogginess of sleep dissipated with each labored breath and wet choking. The young woman rolled over and crawled towards Kassandra, reaching blindly for her before recoiling in surprise. Her chiton was wet, clinging to her body. Kassandra’s fever had come back with a vengeance.  

 _Oh, no_. 

“Can’t…” she rasped, “Breathe… hurts. Cold.”  

“Okay,” Lara turned around, navigating towards the small pile of crates. “Okay,” she opened the one with the wool, taking what looked to be a huge and heavy curtain to cover the woman with. “Better?” 

Kassandra tried to speak but a vicious coughing fit got to her. Her chest was rising and falling erratically. She needed to relax or her lung would shut down again. The archeologist bit her lip, making up her mind, she dragged her bedroll closer and lied onto it, snuggling as close as she dared.  

“Remember the breathing exercises you make me do?” her hand snaked around, coming flat on the woman’s stomach above the makeshift blanket. “When I have a nightmare?” 

Kassandra wheezed a pained hum.  

“Try to follow my breathing, okay? Focus on it and push against my hand slowly.”  

Lara took a deep breath and held it, waiting for Kassandra to do the same. She exhaled slowly while pushing on the other woman’s diaphragm.  

Kassandra wheezed, groaning. “Hurts…”  

“I know,” she whispered in sympathy. She would gladly take her pain, if she could. God knows Lara deserved it. “But you have to keep going.”  

They didn’t sleep that night. Or the one that followed. Like some sick routine, Kassandra’s low wails would jerk Lara awake at odd hours. By the third night, the archeologist moved her bedroll next to Kassandra permanently. They would breathe together until the debilitating pain drained all of Kassandra’s strength, leaving her passed out from exhaustion.  

By the fifth day, Kassandra struck up conversations. Nothing deep, just shallow topics to distract herself from the excruciating pinch in her lung. It wasn’t until the tenth day of their routine that she really spoke to Lara for the first time since they had left Chios.  

 

* * *

 

“It’s because I killed myself.”  

Lara’s soothing motions on her stomach halted abruptly. She froze for a second before her fingers resumed their light drumming. “What?” she asked, no louder than a whisper.  

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe in, hold it for three seconds._   

Tap, tap, tap.  

 _Breathe out._  

“I killed myself on Chios,” Kassandra said with her exhale, waiting for the three other taps on her abdomen to inhale before she went on. “That’s why it’s taking longer.”  

“Oh.”  

Tap, tap, tap.  

 _Breathe out_. 

It was one thing to die by the hand of another and come back, but Kassandra had learned that committing suicide triggered the Staff's power in such a way that made her wish she would never come back.  

 _“You must never harm yourself willingly, Keeper.”_ Aletheia had warned her after Kassandra’s very first death. _“The Staff won’t permit it_ ,” had been fancy talk for the Staff would make her bitterly regret trying to take her own life.  

She had to stay alive. It was as much a part of her mission as the rest.  

It had happened once before, stuck in a loop of life and intentional death Kassandra couldn’t control. A twisted never ending circle of waking up, feeling nothing but pain and dying a few minutes later, until she found a way out. It had taken weeks. Her body had recovered from it, but the fear was forever etched in her mind.  

 _Never kill yourself_.  

“I’m sorry,” Lara’s timid declaration drew her out of her thoughts.  

A lone tear ran down her cheek, Kassandra wheezed, feeling the archeologist’s gaze on her. She didn’t want her pity.  

“What if Daphnae hears about the Eagle Bearer?” Lara had an uncanny ability to sense uneasiness and switched topics. Always practical.  

Kassandra tried to huff, but it still hurt to breathe if she wasn’t following Lara’s rhythm. She grimaced, waiting for the taps. “She will,” Daphnae’s sisters were scattered all across the Greek world. “Nothing will happen. She knows I’m…” Kassandra frowned at the barely lit ceiling above them, searching for the right word. “She knows I’m different,” the huntress had seen her take a spear in her side and walk it off like nothing happened. “As long as the Eagle Bearer keeps to herself, so will Daphnae, ” she coughed again, waiting for Lara’s fingers to drum on her stomach. “Either way, it’s over,” her brow creased in a frown. “For me, I mean.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Kassandra’s smile was weak, rueful. A pale shadow of the ones she usually gave Lara. “You already said that,” she shook her head, squeezing the archeologist's hand on her abdomen. “Were you expecting something else?” she asked. “Because I wasn’t, I knew what would happen.” 

She hadn’t meant to pile it on Lara, it wasn’t her fault. The young woman still winced. “I’m sor—” 

Kassandra lifted her hand and pressed her fingers on Lara’s lips gently, halting her. “No more apologies, please,” they felt soft under her fingertips. “It was my decision to go, not yours,” she surprised herself wondering how it would feel to kiss them. Would they be just as soft? “What happened isn’t your fault.” 

 _You can’t_. 

Kassandra let her hand fall and turned her head to look at the ceiling again. She said nothing for a long while, only breathing to the rhythm of Lara’s fingers while listening to the occasional creaking of the wood above them. The sea was calm, lulling her to sleep, if it weren’t for the droning pain in her guts.

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe in._  

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe out._  

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe in._  

“There’s something I need to tell you.”  

Tap, tap, tap. 

Kassandra exhaled shakily; a cold shudder traveled through her. Her heart sped up, but she forced herself to breathe slowly. She had waited too long, fooling herself into thinking there would be a right place and a right time to say it.  

Things like that never happened. Being here, in a ship’s hold with no immediate danger around and no one listening was the best she could hope for. Guilt had consumed her enough as it was, there would be no better time to say it. Lara had the right to know. The more Kassandra waited, the harder it would be.  

Her eyes jammed shut, images of Lara’s face flashed in her mind. The betrayal, the anger she had felt on Chios, refusing to listen because Kassandra had kept things and lied enough; She needed to tell her the truth. Whatever may come from it, she would bear the consequences.  

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe out._   

“It’s about you… about Yamatai.” 

Lara froze again, fingers coming to a halt. Kassandra found herself holding in a breath, waiting until they resumed their motions, a few seconds later. 

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe in._  

“What about Yamatai?” Lara was watching her, but her voice was flat. “You’ve read the papers that called me a loony with an axe?” 

Kassandra kept her eyes trained on the ceiling, hearing the muffled voices of sailors above them. “No,” though she knew about that, too. “It’s… what happened there...” she wet her lips. “It’s because of me. It's my fault.” 

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe out._  

Kassandra still refused to turn her head, but she could picture the archeologist’s confused frown. She heard her sigh before shaking her head. “The weather in the Dragon's Triangle wasn’t you. The Sun Queen was trapped.” 

Sun Queen. 

She hadn’t heard those words in so long. Himiko, as adulated as she was feared. Kassandra remembered feeling a sense of unsettling puzzlement at the statues littering the island. How her subjects, rich and poor cowered at the sight of her Stormguards. The way her people worshiped with fear in their eyes instead of devotion, as they gave offering to faces whose austere expression was set in stone. A mere mortal, she was. A smart and cunning leader. 

Would they have adored her, had they known her power was not her own? That her mind had been corrupted like many others before. That she had been using and abusing a technology that was never meant for her? 

Would they have loved her, had they known the crippling cowardice of their Queen in the face of death? How vanity and power had intoxicated her, seeped into the pores of her being like a disease to the point Himiko defied the laws of life and scarified souls as she saw fit? Her little game had gone on for a century before Aletheia had urged Kassandra to intervene. Isu technology should never fall in the hands of weak-minded humans who were not ready to carry its burden.  

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe out._  

“And do you know how it happened?” Kassandra asked. “How she got trapped?” 

Tap, tap, tap. 

 _Breathe in._  

Lara squinted; eyes glazed as she rummaged through her memory. “The priestess she had chosen for the ritual committed suicide in the middle of it, Kassandra,” her smile was nervous and confused. “With a dagger she’d stolen from the General of the Stormguards. How could that be your doing?” 

It was like her brain was blocking all possibilities of Kassandra’s involvement in this. Like the trauma of it had been so great that Lara couldn’t possibly reconcile the two. As if the mere notion of Kassandra being _there_ was too unbelievable, even for someone as seasoned as Lara.  

She would have to spell it out for her.  

Tap, tap, tap. 

Kassandra gulped and turned her head, holding Lara’s gaze as she spoke. “A dagger I gifted him, after I convinced Hoshi to kill herself.” 

 _Breathe out._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how many of you thought Kass was going to tell Lara about giving the Staff/dying? Did you expect she'd have anything to do with Yamatai? It is a crossover, after all. Have to tie up things :) Hoshi isn't an OC, Lara finds her journal on Yamatai during the game. She was voiced by Sam's VA :D which leads me to think Hoshi/her family are Sam's ancestors, since the Queen didn't have children. 
> 
> I tweaked Daphnae and Kassandra's original scene in Chios a little, hope you don't mind. I always thought it was touching that Kass stopped herself before saying the word "love". I think Daphnae is the only romance where Kass admits to loving her and mentions falling for her and not just wanting her like Kyra's romance. 
> 
> Anyway, yes, I'm Daphandra trash. I might have shed a few tears writing their scene. I hope you did too :)
> 
> I said last chapter that we were going to travel, so buckle up, we're going to Yamatai. :D


	16. Interlude - Yamatai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! I've got many things to say before we dive in this chapter I'm sorry for the long ass AN:
> 
> One: I love you. I can't stress this enough, but the support this story is gathering is truly out of this world and I want to thank each and every one of you who've read, kudo-ed, followed and commented on this. I'm absolutely floored.
> 
> Two: Christmas came in early for me, Valorianru made a fantastic fan art with our two badass ladies, check it out! https://valorianru.tumblr.com/post/189529853098/eagleraider-dedicated-to-hazell-on-ao3-who-is  
> (I might have cried when I discovered this. Thank you a thousand times again) that's the best present ever. 
> 
> Three: I worked my beta to the bone with this monster of a chapter. Just so you know, this wouldn't be half as good if it weren't for them. They worked really, really hard on it, so yeah, credits goes to them all the way. Again, amazing beta is amazing <3.
> 
> Four: this chapter is long. Very long and slightly different from the previous ones. It almost works as a standalone of sorts. You will see why. I hope you'll like it nevertheless.
> 
> Five: warning and I really mean warning for references to child trafficking and implied prostitution. Again, I didn’t go into details because nobody needs that.
> 
> Six: since this happens about 200+ years during Common Era - Himiko's alleged reign - I’m playing fast and loose with historical events here (very, very loose). Some things I wrote about weren’t introduced until later. I apologize. 
> 
> Vocab: 
> 
> eomma: mom in Korean  
> appa: dad in Korean
> 
> Kingdom of Silla: one of the three kingdoms that made what is now known as South Korea  
> Empire of Wei: one of the three dynasties that made what is now China  
> Kingdom of Wa: Japan 
> 
> Kallístē: one of the many names of Thera  
> Massilia is in the south of France and known as the oldest (French) Greek city. You might know it as Marseilles.  
> Lugdunum used to be the capital of Gaul during Roman occupation - now known as Lyon  
> Quartermaster is the second-in-command of a pirate ship. The notion wasn't introduced until a lot later but I needed to use it. Sorry.
> 
> Whew, that was long. Again I apologize I try to make the opening ANs short.

 

**Kingdom of Silla - 228 CE.**

 

Life had never been easy for Mayuko. 

Her perspective of the world reached as far as the walls of the brothel in which her mother had given birth to her. The girls were lovely, smothering her with attention when mother - Miss Kuso, they’d called her - was indisposed.

Kuso. 

It was her first word; before _eomma,_ before _appa_ – which she didn’t learn until much later – before food and how to express the perpetual hunger gawking in her. No, the first thing the two-year-old had learned to say was _shit_ and it never ceased to bring a wry smile on her lips.  

By four, she was taught how to read by a cross-eyed patron with a rounded belly and gentle smile who would insist on Mayuko sitting on his lap. By five, the brothel-mother was giving her long looks that reeked of money.  

She still remembered the screams, Miss Kuso (eomma) yelling, then threatening and then begging.  

 _“Don’t touch her, please don’t! I will work more! I swear, just keep her out of it._ ” 

There was an odd smell wafting from the doctor who came to examine the girls once a year. They were always tense beforehand; some crying, some upset, some worrying at their lips or bobbing their knees nervously as they waited in line. When it was her mama’s turn, she squeezed Mayuko’s hand, and dropped a kiss on her tousled hair. 

“Be nice, sweetheart. I won’t be long.” she’d said.

“Good luck,” her daughter had  responded. The girls always said that before one of them was going to the doctor. Mayuko only understood the depth of it years later, but not now, not at six years old, holding her gritty one-eyed doll by the hair.   

She was right. It didn’t take long.  

Fifteen days after the doctor’s visit, Miss Kuso broke into a fever. She died a week later, surrounded by the girls wailing and singing her into the next life. They banded together around Mayuko, taking turns to look for her, waving the brothel-mother’s eyes away. 

Except, money was dire and patrons would pay a lot for a child.  

The first time it happened, the girls cried and begged her to forgive them. She didn’t understand. Not until it was too late. The smell of ethanol still made her gag to this day. 

There’s a ranking board the brothel-mother kept in her safe. The girls’ performances, she put it up once a week for all to see. How much they made, how much they owed.  

By eleven, Mayuko had outranked all of them and scored first every time. Her debt slowly filled up, but she had six years to make up for - plus her mother’s debt that had remained unchanged after her death. 

She had a few options, but none of them were especially appealing: 

One was to keep working until the debt was paid, which _could_ potentially happen. The brothel-mother was a harpy, but she was honest. It would take years. If she survived to see thirty, that was.  

Two, was to find a rich patron who would pay her debt. A not-so-nice Shi Noble (nice men didn’t take children to bed) with a hero complex who would want to make things _right_ for her. For love. 

Fucking idiot.  

Three, the riskiest, was to flee. She had nowhere to go, and as difficult as the work was, it still brought a roof over her head and food on the table. Things she weren’t guaranteed to have if she fled.  

Mayuko was smart, smarter than the kids her age - she saw them, stupid, gangly things tripping over their own feet at the market. She knew how to read; she had devoured all the scrolls in the brothel-mother’s office when she wasn’t looking. She knew Japanese; her mama used it to speak with her when she didn’t want the other girls to understand. She had learned to speak Latin and Persian because foreigners liked that, they paid more for her. They liked to pretend this was more than a simple transaction, to pretend their little chat wouldn’t inadvertently lead to them grunting and sweating above her, rutting like wheezing pigs.  

She knew math, of course, had taken an interest in geography. She knew exactly how far the Empire of Wei extended, and could place a few European countries (one of her clients had been Gallic – spoke weird and smelled even weirder - he had told her about the lavender fields surrounding Massilia, and she had traveled there a thousand times in her head).  

But all of this was absolutely useless. Mayuko had long ago resigned herself to the idea that she would live and die in this brothel, though not like her mother had. They hadn’t had a Miss Kuso ever since and Mayuko did a lot of things, but this she did _not_. 

On an eventful boring night, two hooded figures barged in. They drenched the threshold she had spent her morning scrubbing. The other girls were already fawning over them, fighting like ostriches to take their cloaks. 

Mr. Jun.  

She didn’t like him, and he thankfully never chose her. He liked _pure bloods_ as he called them. Mayuko had the face of a local, but the amber of her eyes was too exotic to his taste.  

“Make yourself at home!” he boomed, tapping the shoulder of the huge man who was accompanying him. “Remove that cloak, why don’t you?” 

The other man did just that, revealing her braided brown hair and hazel eyes that looked all but annoyed at him. “I wasn’t aware we were going to...” 

A woman.  

Not too unusual. 

But a foreigner, at that?  

Mr. Jun had no shame, she tsked quietly. Mayuko took the time to study her. There was a game she played every time a foreign patron came in, she tried to guess his country based on his accent.  

This one was harder to place. Not Gallic, not Celt or Persian, though it was close. 

“Roman?” 

“Excuse me?” the woman looked at her with wide eyes, visibly ill-at-ease. 

“Are you Roman?” she asked with a sly smirk. Getting a patron’s attention was half of the work. Now all she had to do was keep it. 

The foreigner gave her a long look before shaking her head. “No.”  

“Where are you from, then?” her eyes fluttered, every move was careful and calculated. Mayuko might still have the face of a child, but she wasn’t one. She’d had her moon’s blood already. 

The frown threw her off a little. The woman stared at her from head to toe, eyes shining in realization. “Nowhere,” was all she said before turning her attention back to that pig of Jun who already had two women on his lap. “Why are we here?” 

Mayuko bit her tongue. The foreigner wasn’t interested. It wasn’t the first time, it happened, that’s how things worked here. Yet, she couldn’t help but take the acute burn of indifference personally. The woman had seen something in her; and Mayuko didn’t like it.  

“To relax,” Jun said, already slurring his words while his hands pawed at one of the girls like a dog. The girl in question was doing a poor job at hiding her scowl; he reeked of cheap sake, Mayuko could smell it from where she stood. They had probably spent the better part of the night at the tavern. “Turn that frown upside down, Kassandra,” he motioned vaguely at the other girls. “Look at those cherries, ripe and ready for the taking...” 

Mayuko tuned the rest of his diatribe out, focusing on the new bit of information he had revealed. Kassandra. It was a nice name; her tongue rolled around the syllables; mouthing quietly. It was a struggle to pronounce, but with a bit of training...  

“Kassandra?” she tried; getting the woman’s attention on her first attempt. Seduction wouldn’t work with her, Mayuko had to change tactics.  

Distraction.  

She walked towards her, not swaying her hips and keeping her back straight. “I think he will be busy for a while,” her eyes fluttered again. Their proximity was making Kassandra tense, she could feel it. Mayuko reigned on the charms and flashed her the most innocent grin she could muster. “We can play cards if you want?” 

There was another frown on her face, pure confusion this time. Mayuko saw her mulling over the words for several seconds before she asked, “Is that a euphemism for...” 

Oh, that cute little idiot.  

Mayuko giggled, all childlike and flushed cheeks. It had been a while since anyone had actually made her laugh. Her hand buried in the concealed pocket of the dress she was wearing, producing a deck of cards that she waved in front of her. “Cards,” she grinned even bigger when Kassandra sighed in relief. “Would you like to play?” 

That night, she discovered just how of a sore loser Kassandra was. 

(And no, Mayuko hadn’t cheated. Not even once.) 

She also discovered Kassandra didn’t know Mr. Jun very well, but was just passing by on ‘important business’ and had needed a guide. Another thing Mayuko found out was how handsomely she paid, and the fleeting but dangerous glares she threw the patrons who dared to ask her if she would be done soon. 

Mayuko passed on a few good clients that night, to her chagrin. Kassandra had paid her well enough, and if she was going to fill her pockets without Mayuko needing to strip her clothes or sit on her lap, so be it. She needed a break anyway. Kassandra left early the following morning, dragging a barely clothed Mr. Jun away with her.  

Their encounter hadn’t particularly marked Mayuko, she had seen her fair share of foreigners coming and going here. In fact, it all but slipped her mind until that day she found herself at the market; stomach rumbling with a two-day-old hunger.  

The brothel-mother had just paid them, which meant she was on for a feast tonight. One of the girls would buy meat, and she’d been tasked with finding them some fresh vegetables. Mayuko couldn’t cook to save her life - her skills laid elsewhere, after all - but she knew how to choose the best items.  

The task had absorbed all her attention, she didn’t feel the shadow behind her until it spoke with that unmistakable accent. “I would like plums, please.” 

Mayuko blinked at the stall, cracking a smile as she lifted her head. “Wait for your turn?” 

Kassandra shot her a look. “You were taking too long. And I’m hungry.” 

 _So am I._  

Her belly rumbled with all the discretion of a dying whale when the smell of grilled fish wafted from Kassandra’s small bag. She refused to let embarrassment consume her and turned back to the stall, giving her order to the merchant. She walked away with arms full, vegetables precariously balanced on her juvenile arms.  

Mayuko had chicken legs for arms, she knew, but she had other skills, mind you. It was hard to build muscles while being chronically malnourished. She had overestimated her strength, and grimaced under the bags’ weight. 

“You’re wobbling,” she heard before the weight was all but lifted off her arms. Mayuko looked up with a frown to see Kassandra’s towering figure. “Let me help.”

“Give it back,” she hissed, eyes narrowed in a squint. “I don’t need your help.” Mayuko had learned early on that antagonizing clients outside the brothel wasn’t in her best interests. She swallowed her frustration and schooled her face into a neutral expression, one that bordered on frightened. “Please, give it back. I have chores and I don’t want to be late,” her voice quivered just so. 

Kassandra blinked at her several times. “Impressive acting,” she nodded slowly. 

Mayuko gaped, closing her mouth, opening it, then closing it again. That foreigner wasn’t easily swayed, her little gig worked every time. She huffed quietly. “What do you want?”

Kassandra pointed at the bags in her arms. “To help you.”

She searched the woman’s eyes for a long while, finding nothing but neutral interest. Kassandra was confusing. She hadn’t wanted her last week, maybe she’d changed her mind? “I don’t work outside of the brothel,” she said, in passing. To test the waters. “You can’t take me with you.”

To her utter surprise, Kassandra smiled. “Good,” was all she said before walking away. 

For each step she took, Mayuko had to take four. “Will you tell me where you’re from?” she panted out when she caught up with her, craning her neck upward and squinting at the sun. 

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t know where it is,” Kassandra answered simply, weaving her way out of the marketplace like she was gliding on water. She must be a good swimmer.

“I bet I would,” her reply had all the petulance of the child Mayuko tried to convince herself she wasn’t. “Tell me.”

“Nope.”

She whined—actually whined in frustration. “Oh, come _on!_ ”

The woman pivoted around when they reached the intersection. The brothel was further down the street. She crouched down at eye-level (which did absolutely nothing to alleviate Mayuko’s frustration, who did she think she was? All tall legs and muscles!) and flashed her the most infuriating grin the teen had ever had the displeasure to see. “I will tell you on one condition,” she moved, shifting the bags to her left thigh. 

Mayuko was not impressed and showed it; crossing her arms on her chest while bouncing her foot impatiently. “What condition?”

“I don’t like eating alone,” Kassandra said. “So, how about I help you with those bags, and you keep me company?”

She was a kid but she wasn’t stupid. She knew very well what the woman was trying to do. She wasn’t going to get under her skin so easily. “You have weird… obsessions.”

It was a half-assed remark, if that. All it managed to do was make her smile bigger. “I will pay you.”

“To watch you eat?”

Kassandra was taken aback by her wit. She burst out laughing and ruffled her head. “To watch me eat.”

It turned out Mayuko did none of the watching and most of the eating. Kassandra feigned not to be hungry after the first bite and discreetly pushed the fish towards her. Mayuko didn’t pretend to be surprised; she ate slowly out of habit - the slower she chewed the longer it would last. She took in the woman’s face when Kassandra looked away. Her features were nice and sharp, her eyes just a shade darker than her own. By the end of their shared meal, Mayuko had completely forgotten her original goal; not until the woman walked her back to the brothel, and ruffled her hair again.

“I am Greek,” she smiled. 

-0-

 

It happened again. And again, and again. The girls gave her looks every time she went out in broad daylight and came back with both her belly and pouch full. Sometimes Kassandra would be a bit late to their meetings, sometimes she’d throw a cloak over herself to hide the crimson stains on her clothes. Sometimes her hands were bloody.

And sometimes, she didn’t come at all. 

They talked alot. It didn’t take long before Mayuko could place Greece, Sparta, and Athens on a map; she travelled there a hundred times in her head, guided by Kassandra’s words. She would tell Mayuko about the Minotaur, about mythologies and ancient beliefs. About how there were Gods who lived on a mountain within walking distance - but how no one had been curious enough to ever climb it.

(Idiots.)

Kassandra never asked her questions when Mayuko was late. Her eyes would linger on the bruises sometimes, or her crumpled clothes, but she never said anything. 

“Were you ever…” Mayuko made a vague gesture towards herself, while chewing on some sesame paste. She grimaced; her mouth was dry now.

The grass was burnt and itchy under her, the sun beating on the two women like it wanted to boil them alive. It was stifling hot to work, no one in their right mind would go out in this humid heat, let alone exhaust themselves in a brothel. Mayuko had tossed and turned all morning before deciding to brave the weather and go to the riverbank, where Kassandra had found her sprawled out half an hour later.

“With these scars?” Kassandra pointed at her own face with a wry laugh. 

“They’re charming,” Mayuko smirked. It had come out on its own, blurted out of habit. Complimenting patrons, reassuring them that their missing teeth, crooked micro-cock or crossed eyes were totally okay.  

The difference was that she had meant it this time. 

Kassandra gave her a long look before shaking her head, coming back from whatever inner musings she’d been distracted with. She was so hard to read, it gave Mayuko a headache every time. “You know what I do for a living?”

The teen shrugged. She had a good idea; she had seen her swords, and they were always in good condition, all sharp and shiny edges. “Maybe.”

Kassandra grinned. “I’m a pirate, like my _mater_ before me.” 

_Mater._

_Mama._

“And I’m a whore,” the teen grinned as well, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Like my mother before me. I guess we can’t escape our destiny.”

Patrons would usually ask if she never dreamed better for herself, after she said that. Something _they_ would provide. Not for free, though. Never for free.

“I guess we can’t,” Kassandra agreed instead, her lips twitching down. She looked somber for a minute, like she’d gone far away. When her eyes refocused on the girl, they had a certain _look_ to them.

Mayuko knew that one. She knew it all too well; it was time to negotiate. Maybe she should have seen it coming. People weren’t nice, or spent time with her out of the goodness of their heart - Mayuko had known that practically from birth. Kassandra had tricked her, lulled her into a false sense of safety. Of course, she would want something in return. They always did.

Mayuko bit the inside of her lip, willing the tightness in her heart to subdue before she schooled her face into a neutral expression, braving to hear what Kassandra would demand of her.

“How much do you want to teach me Japanese?”

Her eyes bulged out, mouth agape in a quiet gasp. Of all things the woman could have asked… 

“Teach… you?”

Kassandra nodded. “I want to learn,” she paused, frowning. “I have to. I would pay you, of course. A couple of hours a week?” 

“You’re already paying me,” she pointed out. Kassandra shrugged. Money didn’t grow on trees, though, but her pockets were bottomless it seemed. “Just how rich are you?”

“Enough to share. Deal?”

Enough to pay Mayuko’s debt is what she meant. The girl had amassed a small fortune ever since meeting Kassandra. In a few years, maybe when she reached eighteen, she could pay up. Maybe she would see her thirtieth birthday, after all.

Mayuko gave her a long, suspicious look. Her hand shot out a few moments later. “Deal.”

-0-

 

Kassandra was a fast learner. 

Her accent was _horrendous_ in Japanese, though. The teen had rolled and sobbed with laughter on many occasions because of it. She swore Kassandra did it on purpose, sometimes, to make her smile. 

Mayuko didn’t mind. 

But Kassandra was a fast learner, which meant that the day came when she had taught the woman everything she knew through targeted conversations and a few chosen scrolls. She had discovered Kassandra had a soft spot for poetry and always brought a new set of poems from the brothel-mother’s library with her for their meetings. But time had come, and she wouldn’t need her tutoring any longer. 

It happened on a cloudy day; the earth was still swollen with yesterday’s monsoon. The ends of Mayuko’s dress were a bit muddy, but the new boots (courtesy of her teaching salary) had kept her feet dry as she waddled towards their meeting place.

She felt herself smile when Kassandra grinned at her. “Good morning,” the woman said in Japanese, bowing her head. 

Mayuko greeted back before flopping gracelessly on the log. Patrons had been particularly exhausting that night. “Do you sleep on your ship?” she asked to keep the conversation going.

Kassandra frowned, but answered right away. “Sometimes. Most of the time, actually. Inns are expensive here.”

Mayuko snorted. “Rich of you to say that.”

The woman smiled a little. She said nothing for a while, searching for her words before she spoke. “I prefer to sleep somewhere I feel…” her brows furrowed. “ _Safe?"_  she asked in Korean.

“Safe,” Mayuko replied in Japanese before nodding. That made sense, if Kassandra killed people for a living. Ships were the safest place for pirates. Especially foreigners. “You will leave soon.”

Kassandra was quiet, eyes flickering down, then back up. “Yes. I have matters elsewhere.”

Mayuko felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes. That also made sense; no one stayed here - not if they had a choice - and Kassandra had already outrun her stay. Eight months on land was a long time. “I see,” her feet shuffled on the mud. She stared at her shiny, new boots. 

In five or six years, she would have enough to leave as well. 

_To go where?_

“Look,” Kassandra spoke again. She had shifted her body, straddling the log to be able to face Mayuko. Her hands shook a little, to the teen’s surprise, before she closed them into fists and stared at Mayuko intensely. “I will give you a choice, but you don’t owe me anything. And you don’t have to agree just because I’m asking you,” her tongue poked out to swipe at her lower lip. “I will go to the brothel to pay the rest of your debt, today.”

Mayuko blinked. 

“You can stay there if you want, and you won’t have to work anymore. I will make sure of it,” Kassandra kept the edge out of her voice, though the underlying threat of her words was unmistakable. She went on, “Or you can leave, take a merchant ship somewhere and start a new life. You’re smart,” a smile appeared at those words. “You can become anything you want. Anyone.” Kassandra took a deep breath, looking unsure. 

It took a few attempts before she dared to touch Mayuko for the very first time since that day in the market, when she had ruffled her hair. She squeezed her small shoulder. “Or you can come with me,” she said softly. “Life on a ship isn’t easy, but I swear on my _mater’s_ tomb that I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

The teen didn’t talk. For the first time in her short life, words had eluded her. It had happened before; patrons making grand declarations and promises of paying her debt if she came to live with them - because life with a children-loving man would always be better than what she had. 

Mayuko would scoff and turn them down every time. Those weren’t the gullible ones she was hoping to find. They had that glint in their eyes, the one that said she would forever be bound to them, that like any other thing they owned, she would be theirs to do with as they pleased, for as long as they pleased, and however they pleased. Meaning, she would end up dead in a ditch somewhere once they got bored. 

But Kassandra… Kassandra was different. She wasn’t gullible either, but there was no twisted glint in her eyes. Just sorrow, rather than pity. She hadn’t treated Mayuko like a thing to be rented. She had seen her as a person - a child, yes - but a person. And she had just promised her safety without ownership. 

“But what would I do?” the prickles had come back and the teen blinked them away yet again. 

Kassandra let hope seep into her face, beaming slightly. “I would teach you how to fight. To defend yourself,” she gave her a proud nod. “I’m good at that. And to navigate? You can be my quartermaster, in a few years.”

Mayuko could travel. Visit Massilia, see the Colosseum she had heard so much about, maybe Sparta, too. Would Kassandra take her there?

The tears fell when she blinked; Mayuko hadn’t cried since Miss Kuso’s death and the doctor who had robbed her of her innocence. She lifted her eyes to see Kassandra’s own brimming with unshed tears. 

“Is that a yes?” the woman’s voice quivered. 

Wordlessly, she nodded. 

-0-

 

Mayuko did live to see thirty. 

She celebrated her birthday surrounded by the crew who had seen her grow and the commander who had set her free. 

Kassandra had kept her word. Mayuko never warmed anyone’s bed anymore. She saw Egypt, and Persia, and Rome, and even Lugdunum. She tasted the most obscure fruits in the Philippines and watched a volcano spurt ash into the sea. 

Her perspective was no longer limited to the stifling walls of the brothel in which she had spent her first twelve years. It expanded as far as her eyes could reach. As far as the ocean.

Kassandra didn’t grow old, she discovered. People wrinkled and sagged and withered under the weight of age, while she stayed exactly the same. Kassandra didn’t die, either. Once in the twenty years Maykuo had been a part of her crew, had she left on a mission only to come back several days later, bleeding profusely. She had then locked herself in her quarters for a whole week before she emerged - a bundle of stained sheets under her arm to be burnt - looking unscathed without any trace of the cuts, stabs and arrows that had fatally wounded her.

Nobody asked questions and Mayuko learned to do the same.

People came and went. Some dying of old age, some asking to be dropped off somewhere, some falling in love right there as the _Hummingbird_ slashed through the waves. They retired and Kassandra let them leave without protestations; often smiling softly and giving them a hefty pouch of coins as a goodbye gift. 

“You can leave too, you know,” the commander told her one night, as they poured over a map together. “Just say the word.”

“Where did that come from?” Mayuko lifted her head, and then an eyebrow. Kassandra did get a little melancholy sometimes. Almost twenty years under her command, and Mayuko still couldn’t read her. 

Kassandra shrugged, focusing back on the map of the Kingdom of Wa. “I’m just saying, if you want to leave the pirate life… You’re grown now, maybe you want other things. Something quieter. A family. Children...”

Mayuko tutted. Kassandra hadn’t given birth to her, but boy did she act like Miss Kuso, sometimes. Even if they were the same age now. “I’m good, thanks,” she paused, before adding, “Besides, I already have a family.”

Kassandra blinked at her like she’d grown a second head. She fought to smother her smile, but Mayuko saw it all the same and beamed at her. 

Gone was the emaciated little girl with a silver tongue. She was a woman now, a pirate and the finest quartermaster the world had ever seen. If she could say so herself. Her place was right there, by the side of the woman who had raised her. The one she only dared to call _eomma_ in her head. 

“We could take them by surprise over there,” she said, focusing back on the map. Silla’s ships were littered across the sea. Not quite surrounding Yamatai, but well on their way. “With stealth?” 

Kassandra leaned over the table and shook her head. “I want them to see us,” she moved a small block across the map, making it collide with another one. “Use the ship’s head to break a few of them in half. We haven’t done that in a while.” 

“It will warn the rest of their fleet,” Mayuko pointed out. “They have bombs.” 

Kassandra’s grin gleamed under the candlelight. “Exactly. How long do you think it takes them to load?” 

The _Hummingbird_ was a fast ship, the quartermaster reminded, hence her name. “Too long,” she smirked. By the time their opponents would be ready to fire, they would be long gone. “They will hit their own.” 

The other woman nodded proudly. “If we wait until the eye of storm settles, they won’t stand a chance.” 

Most people in their right mind wouldn’t steer a ship straight into a storm. Most people weren’t Kassandra, though. 

“That’s bold, Commander.” 

There was another smile on her lips. “Enough for the Sun Queen to notice us.”

They had concocted the plan over the course of a few months; Kassandra had disappeared once they docked in _Kallístē_ , only to come back a week later with the order to set course for the Kingdom of Wa. There was an island there, a small and innocuous thing, with high mountains where the snows were eternal. Yamatai. Excellence Wei had sent emissaries there, but he eyed something else. And so did the King of Silla.

The Queen could summon storms by sheer will apparently. Mayuko wasn’t sure what to make of the information, but Kassandra was convinced that she had to be stopped.

“What if she tries to kill you when we dock there?”

“A foreigner coming to her aid?” Kassandra snorted. “She’s vain, but not stupid. She will _want_ to see me,” she turned around, walking towards another table to pour wine. Kassandra lifted the cup in a silent question. Mayuko shook her head, she didn’t like to drink while making battle plans. Especially this one. “Besides, you’ll be there. With me.”

The woman hummed, _that_ part was giving her butterflies and not the good kind. “You think she won’t notice?”

“Britannia is too far from here, and Romans have made sure to let everyone know just how uneducated they think Britons are,” Kassandra shrugged before switching to Celt. _“I will be surprised if she does.”_

_“You’re not the one whose head will end up on a pike if she finds out what you’re up to.”_

They chuckled. Kassandra approached her. There was a gentle smile tugging at her lips, but it was the fleeting glint of worry that caught Mayuko’s attention. 

“I trust you,” she said resolutely. “But if you’re not sure about this, I can go alone.”

 _I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever_. 

The promise uttered almost two decades ago. Kassandra had kept Mayuko out of harm’s way. She hadn’t fed her illusions about safety; the quartermaster had seen more death in a year than her whole life at the brothel. Pirate life wasn’t easy, life with Kassandra wasn’t easy, and she was acutely aware of the risks every time she unsheathed her sword. 

Mayuko shook her head. “I will go,” she gave her a sly smirk. “I miss gyoza, anyway.” 

* * *

 

Aletheia was sending her to do her dirty work again. 

 _The burden is yours_ , Pythagoras had said to Kassandra as he handed her the Staff. Did he know she would be enslaved to its whims?  The woman was exhausted. Balance came at a price, and apparently it meant she had to go all the way to a godsforsaken island to kill a Queen she’d never heard about. 

 _“Her power grows every day, Keeper,”_ Aletheia had told her. _“She has to be stopped, lest she takes over the world.”_

Kassandra had _almost_ scoffed. The world was vast, so what if this Sun Queen conquered a few islands here and there in the middle of nowhere? There were more pressing matters; like how the Roman Empire was stretching itself thin, or that young Hun - Attila - whom Kassandra had heard about. Now, _he_ was an actual threat to the world, because the world right now expanded from Europe to Egypt. And he was chipping at it, slowly gathering troops and tribes behind him to walk on Rome. 

But no, here she was, in the Kingdom of Wa instead, doing Gods know what. 

Kassandra sighed; eyes narrowed at the horizon. A heavy and humid fog was draped over the _Hummingbird_ , but at least the winds weren’t howling anymore. They had some time before the storm picked up again. The typhoon was a vicious thing that had raised the waves and swallowed ships in its wake. Only a few had survived, less than she had expected. They floated straight ahead. One, the Hummingbird could ram, the others they could burn through their flanks. 

“Take position,” she ordered lowly, waiting for Mayuko to carry her command across the ship. Shouting would alert the Sillans. “Rowers at full speed, archers get ready.”

She looked around quickly, hearing as much as seeing the shuffling of her crew. Men and women, people she had recruited or who had come to offer their services. She saw them, bodies taut with tension, gripping at their weapons, the ropes, mast, shields. The air was loaded, danger on the tip of her lips. A feeling of nervous anticipation coursed through their veins and hers when the rowers started to gain speed. Kassandra’s breath became deeper, she looked around again, finding Mayuko and nodded at her. _Get ready._  

Her fingers wrapped around the bar, white-knuckled as the _Hummingbird_ reached her peak speed. “Brace for impact!”

They crouched in quasi synchronization, noses low on deck. The _Hummingbird_ rumbled and shook violently, pummelling through the other ship to the sounds of groaning and splintering wood.

Kassandra heard screaming in the distance, curses, prayers, and barked orders. She stood up quickly, drawing her bow. “Archers!” and launched herself above the deck, standing on the bar as she nocked and shot the first incendiary arrow. “Fire!”

Black smoke rose, thick and stifling, rowers driving the _Hummingbird_ away as the first shrill whistles of a launched bomb reached the crew’s ears. “Shields!” Mayuko yelled just before the retaliated splinters of wood stabbed them. 

It took hours.

The battle was long, dreadful and ugly. Floating corpses flung on planks attracted sharks and vultures. The ships that tried to flee when it became obvious that the battle was lost were caught up in the storm, leaving nothing but death in its wake. Kassandra raised the sails, threw anchor and ordered the crew to gather below-deck to tend to the wounded and weather the winds. She had brought the best carpenters from Persia to reinforce the hull and masts on their way here. They would be safe. Hopefully.

The howling raged for days until the sea calmed down and the sky cleared, leaving a light shine of mist from which the high mountains of a small island appeared. Kassandra was the first to see it, perched up on the top of their splintered mast. She untied the ruined sails and lowered herself down with a rope. 

“Tell the rowers to bring us to shore, slowly,” she told a sailor. “There are rocks. And fetch the carpenters. We need to take care of that mast.”

“At once, Commander,” she nodded. 

As expected, the _Hummingbird_ was welcomed with raised swords and arrows. The Stormguards’ helmets were too large, Kassandra mused. They looked heavy and impractical, leaving only a tiny, narrow slit for the eyes. The rest of their armor was remarkably… Persian, she noted. The woman kept herself at the front with a discreet gesture at the crew to stay put and look as innocuous as possible. 

She removed her hood and raised her hands slowly when a few men drew their bows. _“I come in peace,”_ she said in Celt. “ _I am not your enemy_.”

She saw a few guards turn to one another, muttering quietly and caught a few words. One slithered past the small group to stand on the bridge near the ship. His armor was the same as the others, save for the ornate helmet and the swords flanked at his sides. The General, there was no doubt about it. 

“Do you speak our language?”

Kassandra frowned at him, feigning confusion. “ _I come in peace_ ,” she said again. “ _I am not your enemy._ ”

Mayuko sprinted to the front, her brusque arrival drawing the guards’ attention. They tensed, muttering among themselves again, knees bent in a fighting stance. “I do.”

The General looked at her. “Where is the commander of the ship?”

The quartermaster smothered her smile. “She stands in front of you,” her hand motioned at Kassandra. “We were taken in a storm. Our ship needs repairs.”

His stoicism was unnerving both women. That helmet was doing a very good job at hiding his face. “We heard the battle,” he said. “You destroyed the other ships.”

Mayuko tilted her head, conceding. “They attacked us.”

He took in the information and kept quiet for so long, Kassandra thought he had seen right through their plan. Finally, he nodded, a small move, barely there. “We will let you dock. Any other requests must be made in writing and given to a guard. You are forbidden from going inland.”

Mayuko bowed in thanks before turning to Kassandra. _“I think it worked,”_ she said, under the guise of translation. 

The woman nodded. _“We will see.”_

-0-

 

The waiting game began.

It took days. Days of looking at the men who stood guard around the ship. Kassandra hadn’t seen them blink or even try to find a bush to relieve themselves. Not even once. They kept staring ahead like frozen statues and moved only when prompted, or when another patrol came to take over.

Days. 

The only mercy they received was the resupplying of the ship and some wood.

Kassandra had taken on carpenter duty to ward off boredom. She began helping the crew by carrying and fixing new planks before switching to polishing the Hydra figurehead that had unfortunately lost one of her five heads during the battles. It would need to be replaced, but that meant trading silver and going inland to find a smith - which was out of the question for now. Everybody was playing their part, appearing as unaffected as her while they went about their duties.

The Gods finally smiled upon her on the third week:

“Commander?” Kassandra looked at the sailor whose head had popped out of the upper-deck. “Guards are here. They want to see you.”

 _Finally…_ she held back a sigh and hauled herself up, leaving the scrolls she had been reading to follow him up. She recognized the General right away, standing just as stiffly as the men surrounding him and Mayuko. The young woman was radiating tension as she was being carefully searched by one of them.

Kassandra’s eyes narrowed; she didn’t like this. The other guards were too close with their hands inches from their swords. This wasn’t a cutesy talk. The rest of her crew was giving them dirty looks, as well. All scornful faces and glowering. They stayed put, their hands balled into fists.

“ _Get away from her!_ ” she hollered, making shooing motions and forcing the guard to step back as she stood in his face. “ _Back off, before I break your hands,”_ her eyes flashed dangerously. 

The other woman turned around, her face carefully blank. Her eyes shone in gratitude as she gave a small nod and squeezed Kassandra’s wrist discreetly, reminding her of their plan. Kassandra took a breath, willing herself to calm down.

It was okay.

It was going to be okay.

The General didn’t seem fazed by the display. He gave her a quick once over and cleared his throat. “The Sun Queen requests your presence to show her gratitude and thank you for fighting our common enemy.”

Kassandra had half a mind to tell him where to shove his and his Queen’s gratitude but kept her mouth shut. The plan. She had to think of the plan. Mayuko leaned over, talking in her ear. _“I’m fine, they were just trying to scare you.”_

 _“I don’t like this,”_ she muttered and focused her attention on the General. _“Tell her I accept,”_ she said, waiting for Mayuko to translate before she went on. _“I won’t have your men intimidate my crew again. Is that clear?”_

The quartermaster gave her a look, but Kassandra urged her to keep translating. The General said nothing, only gesturing for Kassandra to follow him, Mayuko close behind. 

-0-

 

It started raining when they trekked through the forest. The trees were high, and thick branches kept the sun from filtering through. Had Ikaros still been alive, she wouldn’t have been able to see him above. Kassandra felt goosebumps rise on her arms; this place radiated with the same chilling danger as the petrified valley on Lesbos.

Medusa.

Her power had been overwhelming the island, to the point it had spooked all life out of it. Her encounter with the creature was the first time Kassandra had felt legitimate fear since falling off Mount Taygetos. Even Phobos, even Ikaros - mighty and loyal as they were - hadn’t been able to go against their nature. They had waited at the edge of the forest, Ikaros shrieking and flapping his wings in warning, perched on the saddle as Kassandra followed the Daughter deeper into the valley. She had felt observed there, with the snakes announcing bad omens. 

The feeling was the same now; being gauged, being observed, the breeze picking up at her braid like cold, bony fingers curling around her hair.

They crossed several villages on their way up. The few men and women working outside were giving them curious looks before quickly whipping their head down. They looked fed and relatively healthy, albeit skittish. The Queen’s castle stood above the military fort. Kassandra had expected it to be on the highest point of the mountain, but something else seemed to be built there. 

She squinted. _“What is up there?”_

The general turned to her when Mayuko translated.

“The Chamber of the Sun. Our sacred place,” he said.

The Caduceus pendant around Kassandra’s neck pulsed, startling her a little.

 _Keeper,_ Aletheia spoke. _It is where she holds our technology_.

Kassandra’s eyes narrowed in thought. She couldn’t divert their attention long enough to go up there, even with the Staff.

The Isu read her mind and agreed. _You needn’t take it. No one knows how to use it but her. Just_ _stop her._

How did one go about killing a Queen without alerting anyone?

 _Find a way_ , was all Aletheia said before leaving her mind.

“Always helpful,” Kassandra mumbled in Greek and shook her head. 

Mayuko quirked an eyebrow at her in silent question. Kassandra shook her head again, mouthing 'nothing'. The quartermaster shrugged, looking away. She was tense, too, even if she didn’t show it. Kassandra’s fingers ran along her arm, discreetly, prompting Mayuko to look up at her again.

'Okay?’ she mouthed.

Her nose scrunched up and it was all the confirmation Kassandra needed. Mayuko put on a brave face, but she didn’t like this place either. Guilt seeped into the other woman; maybe she should have gone on her own, after all.

Kassandra breathed steadily; she would protect her, no matter what. She shot her quartermaster a small smile, giving her arm a comforting squeeze under the guise of walking too close to one another.

They didn’t climb the stairs to the castle. To Kassandra’s utter surprise, the General ordered his men to stay behind while he led them towards a large garden. There was a lake in the center that gleamed tangerine with the fallen leaves from the branches above. It was surrounded by foliage and neatly trimmed flower plants.

He walked them on a paved road towards a small, innocuous house adjacent to a bigger one.

The man turned around, motioning to the little stone fountain and wooden pots. “Purify yourselves before you enter.”

Kassandra gaped, _obnoxious little shit_ … Letting his men paw at her quartermaster, and now this? Who did he think he was, implying they were some filthy savages?

Oh, she was going to purify this maláka’s face with her fists.  

Mayuko was the first one to crouch and lean over the stone basin, reaching for the wooden cup, when Kassandra refused to move. _“It’s tradition, Commander. Just wash your hands and drink some,_ ” she said while pouring cold water over her fingers. _“You don’t want to offend them now.”_

 _“And it’s fine for those idiots to offend me?”_ Kassandra wanted to scoff, but kept her face in check, giving the man a small nod and the fakest smile she could muster before lowering herself. _“My people knew how to bathe with hot water before he was even born.”_

Mayuko snorted and squinted at the General. “She says thank you for your hospitality.”

He bowed and stepped away, standing by the small house until they were done. Kassandra frowned when he knocked. A small part of the wall came loose, big enough to crawl inside.

She blinked. “ _Why?”_ was all she could say before he gestured for the women to follow him through.

 _“Humility,”_ Mayuko explained. _“Miss Kuso told me some warlords would do that during peace talks. They go through the same door and everybody is equal.”_

Smart. And extremely stupid if someone decided to take advantage of it by killing people as they crawled inside the house.

Mayuko already had a knee on the platform when Kassandra stopped her. _“I will go first. If it’s a trap, you run to the ship and don’t look back.”_

A gush of warmth and incense assaulted her nostrils in the most pleasant way when Kassandra wriggled through. The room was dimly lit, only a few candles were placed above and at the far end of the tiny, bare space. The General was on his knees in the corner, undoing his belt of swords and spreading it in front of him, before he started fumbling with the helmet. Kassandra crawled to the side, leaving enough room for Mayuko to come in.

She tilted her head towards the quartermaster, not tearing her gaze away from the man. _“What is he doing?”_

 _“Trusting you,”_ was all she said before she unbuckled her own belt.

Kassandra was still tense, she watched the General like a hawk, a bit startled by his somewhat generic, if not kind features once he revealed his face. She removed her weapons and carefully placed them within her reach, surprised to find his eyes lingering on one of her small knives.

Not just any knife. Brasidas' dagger. The only memorabilia she had of him. One of his men had given it to her when she had come back to Sparta to see Myrinne, months after the battle of Amphipolis that had claimed his life.

 _He wanted you to have this_ , the soldier had told Kassandra.

She had kept it, polished it, oiled it with the same care she had her grandfather’s spear. Almost seven hundred years later and it was just as sharp. The grip was solid, wrapped with the smoothest materials; Kassandra had taken great care of it.

“It is a beautiful piece you have there,” the General acknowledged with a small bow.

Kassandra returned the sentiment after Mayuko mock-translated. He gave them a small smile, to their utter surprise.

The room was silent after that. Kassandra had always taken great pride in her stamina, but staying completely upright on her knees was starting to get to her. The position wasn’t ideal and even the smallest motion needled at her limbs. It was taking all her willpower not to slouch.

Mayuko - the cheat -  had discreetly moved her feet outward to be more comfortable.

Kassandra started counting to pass the time and focus on something else other than the numbing sensation in her legs. She had reached eight thousand by the time shadows knelt by the sliding doors in front of her before they opened.

Five women entered, each of them bringing an item with her, save for the oldest one who simply knelt in the middle of the room, as the others fussed around. Her attire was traditional, wealthy - although that wasn’t ostensibly obvious. The silk draped around her frail frame was a rich and vibrant blue dotted with pink patterns. A small crown adorned an intricate hairdo. Kassandra wondered how it all kept together; it was all slicked back and looked tight enough to bruise. Himiko - the Queen - said nothing, her keen eye traveling around the room, stopping fleetingly and fluttering between the two women.

Kassandra had seen Queens and Pharaohs throughout her life. Female Warlords from foreign lands, but nothing compared to the chill she felt when Himiko’s gaze leveled on her, or the way it bore into her, scratching at her very soul, looking through her head.

Or trying to, at least.

The Caduceus pendant pulsed again, becoming warmer.

 _She is trying to read your mind, Keeper,_ Aletheia informed. _I am preventing it._

Kassandra’s blood froze. _Mayuko… protect Mayuko_.

 _I can only help one of you,_ the Isu warned. _She is very powerful._

Kassandra steeled her gaze on the Queen’s, trying to keep her attention away from Mayuko. _I can handle it,_ she’d had a lot of practice redirecting her thoughts when the Staff tried to overwhelm her with its incessant whispering. 

No sooner had Aletheia left her mind that a shrill buzzing echoed in Kassandra’s ears. She blinked, only to find herself in the dark. A cold gust of wind chilled her spine; she pivoted around herself, coming face to face with Brasidas.

His milky eyes stared lifelessly into hers. Blood was ticking down his forehead. “Why did you let me die, Kassandra?”

Splutter of blood splashed on her face, forcing her to close her eyes. When she opened them again, he’d disappeared. Kassandra looked around herself, heart hammering in her chest.

“Why did you kill me, Kassandra?” Alexios’ ominous voice echoed.

“Why didn’t you save me, Kassandra?” Phoibe asked dully.

“I’m sorry,” Kassandra blinked and blinked. “I... I tried,” she whispered, feeling the tears seeping into her voice. “I tried, I swear.”

“You didn’t try hard enough.”

“You weren’t fast enough.”

“You weren’t strong enough.”

“You failed.”

Her eyes jammed shut as she clenched at her head. _Stop, stop, stop. Stop!_ Kassandra blinked, staring directly into Himiko’s face. It was decayed, teeth rotted yellow by age, the life sucked out of a translucent skin that almost tore, stretched to cover sharp cheekbones. Her skeletal fingers wrapped around Kassandra’s wrist.

“I see you,” she snarled, glaring at Kassandra through her empty sockets.

When she blinked again; Kassandra was back in the small house. She stiffened at the gentle touch on her balled fist.

 _“Hey,”_ Mayuko spoke softly in her ear. _“Are you alright?”_ the woman nodded slowly. _“You should stop staring at her. It’s not proper.”_

Kassandra gave another slow nod, gathering her thoughts; Phoibe, Brasidas, Alexios... their anguish had been so vivid; the lithe weight of Himiko’s fingers curled around her wrist, she could still feel its burn on her skin. She nodded again, when the quartermaster gave her a quick look. _“I’m fine.”_

Mayuko nodded, taking over translating duty. “It is an honor to meet with you, Your Majesty.”

To her credit, Himiko’s face was carefully neutral. “My Stormguards have informed me of your arrival,” her eyes flickered between Kassandra and Mayuko again. “You were taken into a storm, I heard?”

The nerve.

Kassandra waited until the translation was done to nod. _“Ships attacked us on our way here.”_

“Invaders,” the Queen said, taking the small pot that was offered to her before she continued. “You have done my Kingdom a great service in ridding me of them,” she poured water into it before sliding it back to the priestess. The smile she gave them was more akin to a leer. “Those men would never admit to cowering in front of the fairer sex. Our natural disposition leads them to think we are inferior,” it was malicious and subtly insincere; the way she thought she held all the cards in the palm of her wrinkled hand. “We, women of power, have to support one another. Don’t you think, Kassandra?”

She bit on her tongue, before her lips turned into a smirk. _“I agree,”_ her answer was plain, deceptively unaffected when Mayuko finished translating. The quartermaster kept the trembling out of her voice. _“Which is why I helped you with those ships, your_ _Majesty_ ,” she spat the last word with just enough venom to sting, seeping through the language barrier.

_Queen of nothing._

The barest of sneers appeared on Himiko’s face, she tutted quietly like a hissing cat. The Queen grabbed the brush, pouring green powder into a small cup of steaming water before mixing with practiced movements. The wish-wash of the brush filled the small room. “The King of Silla underestimated my power; and he shall pay for that oversight.”

Kassandra kept staring.

“As for you, foreigner,” her thin lips curved up. “What is it your heart desire?” she slid forward, offering the tea with a small bow.

Kassandra leaned over, taking it in the palm of her hand.

 _“Don’t drink it right way,”_ Mayuko instructed. _“Turn it to the right and wait.”_

She nodded, staring into the thick mixture curiously. _“I already have everything I want, thank you.”_

One of the priestesses had prepared another cup for Mayuko and gave it to her.

Himiko squinted, looking at her for a long while. “Should you tire of wandering the seas, I can grant you land. Status.”

Kassandra quirked an eyebrow, bringing the cup of tea close to her lips when the quartermaster told her to. _“And what would you want in exchange?”_ it tasted strange, a little bitter and thick when she rolled it around in her mouth. Not poisonous, though.

The screeching came back in her head, fleeting. A flash of the Queen’s decayed face appeared, frazzled grey hair framing her face like thunderbolts.

 _You,_ it sneered. _I will have your power._

“You could become one of my subjects,” Himiko replied. “I am planning to expand my Kingdom. You and your crew could join my Stormguards. Reign over the waves on my behalf.”

Kassandra’s eyes flickered towards the only man in the room. He hadn’t moved an eyelid. _“It would be an honor to work under your command,”_ she began with calculated care. _“Should I exhaust the wonders of the seas.”_

She punctuated the cushioned refusal with a saccharine smile.

“Fair enough,” Himiko tilted her head. “For the sake of defeating my enemy, you shall choose freely,” that unsettling smirk was back again. “You and your crew shall be granted quarters inland. My subjects will welcome you until you decide to leave.”

Kassandra quirked an eyebrow, saying nothing.

“We thank you again for your hospitality,” Mayuko took over, cutting through the rising tension. “Your Majesty.”

The frivolity of decorum held no secrets for her. The quartermaster weaved her way through polite goodbyes and bows like no other, almost dragging Kassandra by the arm when they were outside, escorted by the General.

 _“Were you okay back there?”_ she asked, voice deliberately sweet to throw the eavesdropper off. “ _You looked like you wanted to strangle her.”_

Kassandra huffed. _“She ticked me,”_ and the feeling was probably mutual. _"Tell the others to be very careful when they leave the ship,”_ she couldn’t order them to stay inside, it would draw attention. _“No one is to spend the night on the island.”_

The General seemed honest enough, but his blind devotion was unsettling. He followed Himiko’s orders, and wouldn’t think twice about killing them all in their sleep.

They waited until they were back on the ship to resume their discussion. Once in her quarters, Kassandra started pacing, walking back and forth along the walls like a wolf in a cage. Mayuko leisurely sitting on the bed was doing nothing to alleviate her nerves.

 “Which one was it?”

“The one on the left,” she said, munching on an apple. They hadn’t had fresh fruits in months. “She kept to herself, wore the least remarkable outfit. Too pretty for it.”

Kassandra stopped and turned around to face her. “Are you sure?” she barely remembered her face; too busy fending off Himiko’s relentless incursions into her mind. “She looked young,” too young to reign.

Mayuko agreed with a nod. “She is. Maybe fifteen,” and frowned. “The others didn’t look the Queen in the eyes, but that one kept avoiding her gaze on purpose,” she swallowed before finishing. “Something is wrong with her. The Queen, I mean. Did you see the way she looked at us?”

Kassandra hummed, mulling over the quartermaster’s words. She couldn’t tell her everything; it was too dangerous. At least Aletheia had protected Mayuko, like she’d asked. “Like fresh meat?” her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yes,” Mayuko nodded once, ignoring her poor attempt at humor. “Especially you,” her voice held a tinge of worry. “We shouldn’t stay. This place has darkness in it.”

They could agree on that. “We won’t,” Kassandra assured her, the bed dipping under her weight when she sat down.

“Do you have a plan?” Mayuko shifted to face her, throwing the core of the apple away.

She thought she had, but the Queen wouldn’t be so easily swayed, even with a half-assed pledge of allegiance. “I don’t know yet,” Kassandra replied honestly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose to ease the tension. This was a lot harder than she had anticipated.

The other woman sighed as well, her hand traveling up Kassandra’s arm to massage her shoulder. “You look tired. Have you slept lately?”

Kassandra’s lips curved up. “You’re too young to be my mater,” she teased, ruffling her hair. “I’ll sleep when I’m—”

“Dead,” Mayuko finished for her, swatting Kassandra’s hand away from her head. “Heard that already and since we both know that’s not happening either, maybe you should eat something and lie down,” she grabbed the platter of fruits and put it on Kassandra’s lap before standing up. “I will take over, you rest.”

Mayuko kept glaring and watching her until the other woman gave up all pretense, took a bite, changed into her sleepwear, and dutifully lied down, feeling like a scolded child.

“I remember doing that for you a few years ago,” Kassandra brought the covers up her chin and moved around to glance at Mayuko standing near the door. “Tuck you in and wait until you slept when you got seasick.”

The quartermaster snorted. “Decades, you mean.”

Had it been that long ago? It felt like yesterday.

“You kept wriggling out of the bed to sprawl in mine when I wasn’t looking,” she smiled, eyes shining with the memories, Kassandra tilted her head towards the tiny bed frame in the corner.

“Yours is bigger.”

Not as lavishly large as the one in the quartermaster’s room, though.

“You _were_ smaller,” she shot back with a wink.

Mayuko grinned. “True,” she bit her lip, shifting awkwardly on her feet, fingers already on the doorknob. “Goodnight... _mater._ ”

Kassandra blinked and blinked and blinked, feeling the tingles of tears just behind her eyelids. She gave her a lopsided grin, blinking again through the watery shine blurring her vision. “Goodnight.”

_Mater._

-0-

 

It was the blue-tinted hue that woke her up; too bright to be daylight. “You didn’t follow my instructions,” Aletheia was standing at the foot of her bed. “Keeper.”

Kassandra’s head popped out of the covers. She squinted, moving until her back rested on the headboard and gestured for the Isu to keep quiet before nodding a minute later, once she’d made sure the ship was sound asleep. “What you want me to do is madness,” she said, cutting right to the chase. “It’s a child, for Gods’ sake.”

Aletheia tilted her head. “As I understand it. Yes.”

She sounded so detached... Kassandra’s nostrils flared. “Himiko said she wanted me. I can go back and let her perform the ritual on me,” the woman replied, keeping her voice even. “Kill her then.”

The Isu didn’t answer right away, her eyes dulled for a second and cleared again before she spoke. “Impossible. The technology is too powerful,” Kassandra was already opening her mouth to protest, but she didn’t let her. “You forget this is not my physical form, Keeper. The Staff wouldn’t be able to both protect your soul and withstand her power. It would kill you.”

 _So what_ , the words on the tip of her lips; she let out a tired breath. “I have outrun my life, Aletheia. That girl doesn’t deserve to die because of her Queen’s vanity.”

“Your mission is fraught with danger and obstacles,” the Isu countered. “But you must complete it.”

Kassandra scoffed, shooting out of the bed to stand in front of Aletheia’s holographic form. “A child is _not_ an obstacle,” she sneered. “Are you out of your mind?!”

The Isu raised her hand in a pacifying gesture and nodded slowly, conceding. “I understand your reticence, Keeper.”

_No, you don’t._

“What I am asking of you is difficult,” she nodded again. “But it is necessary, for the sake of your race.”

“The sake of my race?” Kassandra turned around and threw her hands in the air, glowering back at her. “What do you know of my race? Your people enslaved us.”

Aletheia nodded again, her brows creasing in a frown. “And we paid for our mistakes,” her voice became sharper. “I helped free your kind, Keeper. I am not against you, and I will not have you hold the errors of my enemies against me.”

This was going nowhere. Kassandra could argue with the Isu until she was blue in the face and neither of them would budge. She sighed, walking back to the bed to slouch on it, throwing one arm over her eyes. The sea was calm outside, barely rocking the _Hummingbird._ A sharp contrast to the turmoil raging inside her.

“What happens if Himiko lives?” Kassandra asked after a bout of tense silence. She was so tired.

Aletheia’s answer didn’t come right away. “Forced order,” she said plainly. “Chaos.”

 _Things you can prevent if she dies_ , the Isu finished in her head.

Kassandra wasn’t sure who 'she' was referring to. The Queen? Hoshi?

She stayed quiet, removing her arm to look up at the ceiling until the burning sensation in her eyes forced her to blink. “If I do this,” she began, plopping herself on the elbows to look Aletheia in the eye. “You’re coming with me. Show her.”

The Isu was already shaking her head but Kassandra motioned for her to stop and rose to her feet, nostrils flared. Her eyes were a deep amber, fingers itching to grab, to claw and hit.

“You _will_ come with me and you _will_ show her,” she said again, glaring at Aletheia. “Her blood will be on your hands,” Kassandra spat, tone clipped like a barbed whip. “You, who prided yourself in wanting to protect humans.”

“Keeper...”

Kassandra shook her head. “This is the first and last time, Aletheia,” she warned, index finger raised in the air between their faces. “If you ask me to kill a child ever again, I swear to you, I will take this cursed Staff off my neck,” her voice was low, and somber. “Leave this Earth to burn. And you and that Heir of Memories can fuck off to Tartaros.”

The Isu didn’t speak; she stared, unblinking for a while before she vanished into the air.

 _Understood,_ her voice echoed in Kassandra’s head.

-0-

 

Hoshi had her own quarters next to the Queen’s, Kassandra discovered thanks to Mayuko’s snooping. It took weeks to mellow the inhabitants of Yamatai. Weeks of late-night games and impromptu helping but at least they weren’t cowering at the sight of her crew anymore. Some subjects even allowed a few of them to share their meals.

The General reminded her of Brasidas, although a lot less talkative. Their uncanny resemblance kept confusing her, but his blind devotion to the Queen was always a sharp reminder of the mission she needed to carry out.

 _“You don’t have a family?”_ Kassandra asked, as they wandered the corridors of the palace, Mayuko on her heels to translate.

It was puzzling to see the helmet shake. “My place is with my men and her Grace. My family has been at her service for generations.”

They rounded the corner, coming close to the royal quarters. He was going to stand guard at Himiko’s door all night.

 _“I see,”_ she said, looking down and playing with Brasidas’ knife in her hands. _“I knew someone like this. A friend.”_

The man turned to her, his armor clinking with the movements. “Where is he now?”

Her smile was wry. _“Dead.”_

They didn’t speak after that, Kassandra bid her goodbyes and both women returned to the ship. She waited until the moon was high enough. Focusing her breathing, Kassandra blinked out, reappearing in Hoshi’s room. It was dark, the wooden planks drawn over the windows, only leaving a few rays of moonlight to filter through them.

Kassandra held her breath and pricked her ears up, listening to the young priestess’ soft snores. Once she made sure no guards were standing near the door, she slunk towards the bed, peering over Hoshi’s sleeping form.

Mayuko was right; she was the prettiest of the priestesses surrounding the Queen, her pale skin brought up the faint splash of freckles on her nose and cheeks. “Forgive me,” Kassandra muttered before clamping her hand on Hoshi’s mouth and pinching her nose.

Coal eyes snapped open at the sudden weight. The women vanished in a flash of light before she could make so much as a shriek.

A soft breeze whipped at Hoshi’s hair, leaving it to flow behind her like a shadow. She tensed, shoving Kassandra away with her lithe arms and almost lost her balance in the process.

“Careful,” Kassandra’s hand shot out to grab the priestess and draw her back towards her body. “This mountain is high. I wouldn’t recommend falling,” she joked, trying to ease the tension. “Been there, done that.”

Hoshi let out a small, confused shriek. “How—where am I?” she turned her head, facing green lands and a sea that gleamed sapphire under the sunlight. “This isn’t Yam—” she stopped halfway and pivoted to look at Kassandra with wide eyes. “You... you speak our language.”

The woman shrugged. “Yes.”

Hoshi’s eyebrows came low on her forehead when it all sank in. “You lied to our Queen.”

“Yes.”

The girl took a step back, a few pellets falling off the cliff when her foot landed halfway in the vacuum. “She will have you flayed for your impudence.”

“She might try,” Kassandra nodded. “If you tell her.”

Hoshi’s small hands balled into fists; her whole body taut with tension. “I’m not afraid of you,” the quivering of her voice was telling a different story.

Kassandra stepped away, lifting her hands in order to placate the young girl. Hoshi was already confused as it was, Kassandra didn’t need to worsen it. “And you are right,” she replied softly. “I’m not the one you should be afraid of,” her words hung between them, thick with meaning. She went on. “I’m not the one who will hurt you,” her eyes flickered away for a second. “Your Queen, however...”

“You’re lying,” Hoshi shook her head vigorously. “She would never.”

Kassandra tilted her head. “Can you swear it on your family?” she turned her hand, palm up and approached to Hoshi. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Hoshi.”

“I’m her favorite,” the teen retorted with all the petulance of her rank, swatting Kassandra’s hand away. “She’s chosen me to succeed her.”

“You are her favorite,” she agreed. “But you won’t take her place,” Kassandra paused before she spoke again. “Did she ever tell you that you would reign?”

The dam cracked.

Hoshi bit her trembling lip, and that’s all the confirmation she needed. “I don’t believe you...” she muttered; words almost drowned by the wind.

“Maybe you will believe me, then?” Aletheia appeared behind the teen, standing just between her and the edge of the cliff. “You must not fear me,” she raised her arm slowly. “I shall not hurt you, merely show you what will happen.”

Hoshi’s gaze flickered between the two of them. “Witches,” she spat, hunching over herself before yelling, “Be gone!”

Aletheia threw Kassandra a long look. The woman sighed and approached the shivering teen slowly. “Come,” she motioned towards the blocks of granite nearby and sat down, waiting for the priestess to do the same. Kassandra folded her hands on her knees, raising her head to look at the clear blue sky. Lakonia had always been so beautiful; she hadn’t been here in years.

“My people used to throw children from this mountain,” she spoke while staring at the edge of Mount Taygetos. “A long, long time ago.”

Where her life ended. Where it all began.

Where she killed Alexios.

Where Myrrine tore her heart out and flung it away.

“They believed those children to be weak. A bad omen for a Kingdom of warriors,” she continued. “Power-hungry Kings sentenced innocent children to death. Just because they could. Because they were afraid to lose wars. To lose their domination, their influence.”

Her gaze traveled back towards Hoshi again. “I see those Kings when I look at your Queen. I see the same people who decided my baby brother should die because he was a danger to their power,” Kassandra’s shoulders rose and fell with her sigh. “You must have felt it, too...”

_The Queen dotes on me, like a doll, she keeps me close to her, dressing me in her favorite clothes. It unsettles me beyond words. She constantly gazes upon my features as if... as if she’s looking at her own reflection._

Those were the last words the teen had written in her journal. Before Kassandra’s arrival. The unease had never really left since Hoshi had answered the call, had become a priestess of the Sun. Worse, it had grown as her place cemented to be the next in line, the threat looming over and closing in on her like a cage.

“You’ve felt it,” Kassandra repeated. “Her darkness.”

Wordlessly, Hoshi nodded.

The woman offered her hand again, the Staff pulsing around her neck. “Let me show you.”

* * *

 

_The pain is excruciating._

_It hurts. It hurts, she screams. Her Queen. Her Queen is a daemon, stalking ever so slowly towards her, crawling like a snake, leaving a foul track in its wake._

“Hush, child. It will be over soon...”

 _It’s tearing her apart with its claws, opening her raw, scratching at her insides to burrow itself into her body. Scratching and tearing at her soul._ “You shall be mine, now.”

_She sees it. Chaos, death and misery. The fires, the conquests. Entire villages decimated. Dread and awed horrors._

“More. More, more, more!” _the daemon sneers and stomps in her body._ “More, I want more!”

_Hoshi screams, but her lips are sealed shut._

_She sees it all. Suffering and helpless._

* * *

 

Kassandra caught her before Hoshi could topple over. Tears fell from ashen eyes that kept staring into nothingness. She gave the teen a comforting squeeze, whispering apologies in her hair when Hoshi’s head burrowed under her chin and started shaking.

She was so young, merely a few years older than Mayuko when she’d taken her in. Too young to carry that burden on her frail shoulders; it wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” Kassandra repeated, probably for the hundredth time, as sobs and wails rattled through the small body in her arms.

Hoshi wept, wept until her voice became too raw and muted her anguish, until the sun disappeared in the horizon and the women shuddered from the evening mist. “What should I do?” she croaked, looking at Kassandra through tear streaked eyes.

Kassandra’s gaze flickered away towards the edge of the cliff, unable to hold hers. Hands balled into fists it took a while before the words finally came out. “Don’t let her complete the ritual.”

She turned back, forcing herself to look at the girl she had just sentenced to death.

 _Look and never forget._ Never forget her anguish, never forget her quivering lips and the eyes that stared back in fear.

 _I don’t want to die,_ they said.

Kassandra reached around herself, unsheathing Brasidas’ dagger and showing it to her. “When the time comes,” she spoke, ignoring Hoshi’s sobs and how the tears were running down her cheeks again. “When the time comes,” she repeated with more assurance. “Aim for your chest, not your belly,” she cradled Hoshi’s cheek with her free hand, noting how it was shaking. “Your heart. Not your guts,” leaving her fingers to travel above the priestess left breast, poking at the space between the ribs. “Here. It will be faster.”

Hoshi bit her lips until she drew blood, and swallowed thickly. “Will...” she blinked. “Will it hurt a lot?”

Kassandra felt the words slice through her skin and flinched. She gathered her body into a hug and kissed the crown of her hair. “Only for a moment,” she lied.

-0-

 

The _Hummingbird_ left a week later with a royal send-off. Himiko herself limped her way down from the palace to bid her goodbyes, surrounded by her priestesses. Hoshi put on a brave face the whole time, giving an imperceptible nod to Kassandra. Her eyes shone with fierce determination, they still held anxiety mingled with fear.

_When the time comes._

“If you exhaust the seas,” the General said when he approached her, his voice muffled by the helmet he’d taken off all but once since they met. “It will be an honor to have you fight alongside my men.”

 _“If...”_ Kassandra repeated with a wry smile. She beamed a little, a second later. _“My people have a custom, from warrior to warrior,”_ she bowed her head. _“To gift the most honorable one with their most prized possession,”_ and took out the knife, eyes lingering on the blade for a long while before she turned it around with a flick of her fingers, presenting the grip to the general. _“This belonged to the most honorable warrior I knew. The kindest man, and a dear friend,”_ she blinked the blurriness in her eyes away. _“Please, take care of it.”_

The General gave her a deep bow, when Mayuko finished the translation. He cradled the weapon in his gloved hand. “With my life.”

The crew breathed a little easier when the horizon swallowed Yamatai. Their routine went on, Kassandra set course towards Gaul and never looked back, but it took some time for her to smile and laugh again. The crew’s gentle nudging and kindness proved to be the balm to her aching heart.

She played cards with her quartermaster, like that first night in the brothel.

“Maláka! How did...” Kassandra blinked incredulously at the table. “You cheated, you... ch—cheat!” her cheeks were already flushed red by the alcohol coursing through her veins.

“You’re just bad at it,” Mayuko leaned on the cushioned seat, a sly smirk on her face. “Bad,” she slurred. “Very, very bad. Awful.”

“I defeated a Minotaur and two Cyclops,” the woman retorted, waving her cup around before taking another gulp. “I beat the Sphinx!” she shook her head vehemently. “I’m not an idiot and you cheated.”

The quartermaster tutted, flicking her hair. “Whatever helps you sleep, _Commander_.”

Kassandra scoffed. “That’s it,” she grunted, putting the cup down with a loud clack. “You’re on guard duty from now on.”

The faux-outrage on Mayuko’s face would have made anyone else cave in. “You know what,” she started. “Maybe I _should_ have cheated because then, there would be a reason for your unfair trea...”

Kassandra felt a small tingle on her chest and a low buzz in her head, drowning out the other woman’s talking.

 _Keeper,_ Aletheia said, her voice filling the woman’s head after almost a year of silence. _It’s done._

She felt dizzy and nauseous once the words registered; the smile glued to her face only a second ago faltered before Kassandra’s whole face fell, becoming grave and somber as the light in her eyes dimmed.

_It’s done._

* * *

 

Tap, tap, tap.

_Breathe in._

The ceiling above them was blurry, no matter how many times Kassandra blinked at it.

Tap, tap, tap.

_Breathe out._

Lara had kept silent the whole time, listening with rapt attention. The drumming on her stomach hadn’t stopped, not even once.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Say something, please,” Kassandra tried after a shuddering breath, when it became obvious the archeologist wouldn’t speak.

Tap, tap, tap.

_Breathe out._

“I don’t...” her voice sounded foreign to Kassandra’s ears. Distant. “I can’t...” she could feel Lara’s gaze digging into her profile. “I don’t know... I don’t know what to say.”

Kassandra blinked the blur away again, feeling a tear run down her cheek, she lifted her hand to wipe it away, but Lara was faster, thumbing at it gently. She swallowed the churn in her throat, nodding in quick succession.

Lara bit her lip, turning her head away before sighing shakily. “I...” she cleared her throat. “I need some air, I think. Above deck.”

Kassandra frowned at the ceiling and nodded again. “Of course.”

“Will you be okay?” the young woman was already pulling away, leaning upward. “By yourself?”

_No. Don’t leave me._

“Yes.”

_Don’t leave me behind. You said you wouldn’t leave._

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Kassandra echoed.

_You said you wouldn’t leave._

Her ears picked on the archeologist’s careful shuffle as she put on her boots and draped Kassandra’s cloak over her frame. The wood creaked with each of her steps, signaling her absence like a warning.

_You said you wouldn’t leave._

Kassandra remained immobile, feeling the phantom sensation of Lara’s fingers drumming her breathing. Taking it away.

_You said you wouldn’t leave me behind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, _that_ was long too!
> 
> Okay so, tea ceremonies weren't introduced until 800+ CE. Since TR2013 mixed different time periods within the plot, I had to do it too. Chinese introduced writing in Japan, which was used for centuries until the Japanese invented their own writing system (+using Chinese ideograms). Problem is, that didn't happen until after Himiko's death, so way after Mayuko could teach Kassandra anything. Suspension of disbelief is a thing, yes?
> 
> Same thing with bombs, it wasn't a thing until a few hundred years later.
> 
> Japanese believe the essence of life to be located in one's belly. Which is why they'd cut through their stomach during ritual suicide. It's painful and a slow death, that's why Kassandra tells Hoshi to aim for her heart. 
> 
> Kassandra pretending to come from Britannia was originally because it was too far away for Himiko to be familiar with the language, as opposed to Latin (and Greek by extention) or Korean/Chinese. Romans had a thing for occupying lands, enslaving natives and forbidding them from using their language because they thought it was "a tongue of savages".  
> Then I realized that Lara was actually a Brit so... small involuntary nod to her :)
> 
> Attila was not alive at the same period as Himiko. He was born 200 years later and made the Western Roman Empire shit its pants.
> 
> Kassandra's ship's original name was Phoibe :) 
> 
> I know this chapter has a very different feel to it than the others with a new stroryline and the introduction of OCs; pov shift; Kassandra's past after Greece is something I'd been wanting to explore - my beta said it could work as a standalone, hence the chapter actually having a title for once. I hope you liked it nevertheless. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Next chapter will be more "normal" I promise. We'll be back in Greece.
> 
> A belated Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and a very happy new year!
> 
> And thank you Martin for the corrections!


	17. Chapitre Seize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I always told myself I'd try to avoid updading monthly and... I did it! By four days! 
> 
> Thank you all for your comments last chapter, I was blown away by your words, let me tell you. It was a bargain for my beta and I and you guys, you went with it and you were so freaking nice I'm... I'm speechless really. Thank you. I loved writing about Kassandra and Mayuko. Thank you for adopting her ^^ Seems Kass' little incursion in Yamatai was quite a success! Thank you for your support, we've reached another milestone! 
> 
> Thank you to my awesome beta who worked really hard on this with me and literally finished beta-ing half an hour ago. Without them, this chapter would be a lot more bland, just saying. Awesome beta is awesome. 
> 
> vocab:  
> peplos is a type of clothing  
> Skeuos is a bag  
> Klinē is a type of bed/couch people used to lie on during Ancient Greece/Ancient Roman  
> an A380 is a plane. A very, very big plane.

 

 

Lara hears it above the commotion, above the unnatural snowstorm whipping at her hair and tearing through her ruined clothes. Sam’s ear-piercing scream of agony chills her to the bone.

_Keep going. Find her. Keep going._

“The ritual has begun!” a Solarii hollers before her arrow hits him in the chest with a final thud that would have made Lara sick, had she not been so desperate.

“For the Queen!” another one snarls as he dashes towards her. He tumbles down just as he reaches her, a crevice the size and shape of her axe indented on his skull. Flecks of bright red blood spray out from the wound as Lara pulls the axe out, immediately crystallizing and blowing away in the cold, harsh weather.

_Keep going. Just keep going._

Lara can barely see past her nose. Snowflakes are slicing through her skin like shards of ice.

_“Pour forth! Fill up this mortal coil!”_

It’s not Mathias’ voice she hears above the howling winds. Lara squints, both in momentary confusion and to shield herself from the brutal weather, and keeps running.

 _“Awaken, my Queen..._ _"_

She knows those inflections, she’s heard that accent somewhere before, but Lara can’t spare the focus to figure out whose voice it is; raving Solarii are sprinting towards her like a pack of dogs, one after the other, she must take care of them first. Kill the threats. Kill them all.

_“Awaken!”_

Sam is screaming. Sam is screaming and screaming. Lara keeps shooting arrows, keeps pushing forward, heartbeat in her veins. “Get out of my way, you bastards!”

 _Protect her. You promised to protect her_.

 _“Himiko of the Storms!_ " the voice is chanting along Sam’s wails.

Lara is close, she can see the platform; the hooded figure with their hands raised in the air, Sam levitating just above, writhing in pain. Her limbs stretched unnaturally. Her arms are forced outward by the pulse of the bond between her and the decaying corpse on top of the small stairs.

“Stop!” Lara yells above the winds. “Don’t hurt her! Stop!”

They don’t hear her above the chaos. A chunk of ice whizzes past, barely missing Lara’s head. Sam is still screaming, still floating above. The wind is too strong, it forces Lara down, she crawls and crawls to reach the wooden bridge. It’s disintegrating fast, but she manages to get on the other side before it’s blasted away.

“Sam!”

Lara scrambles to her feet, barely keeping her balance as she runs towards her friend. “Sam!”

The figure tosses back the hood and turns around sharply. Eyes like liquid honey, a smirk on her face.

Lara feels a sudden weight in the palms of her hands, raises them, observing the pistols. Roth’s. Roth who died protecting her. Roth who took an axe to the spine. Roth who is dead. Like Grim, like Alex, like so many others.

 _Protect Sam. You promised_.

Her hand stretches and aims. Kassandra tilts her head, palms outward towards the young woman. “You would kill me, Lara?” she frowns.

Lara doesn’t want to. She opens her mouth, but her tongue feels like cotton, too thick. “You’ve hurt Sam,” she croaks. Her words feel foreign.

Kassandra is still smiling. “I did what was necessary, for my Queen,” she takes a step forward, then another and another until the canon of the pistol is pressed against her. “You wouldn’t kill me, would you?”

Her voice is sweet, all smooth baritone. Her fingers curl around Lara’s shaking hand. “You would kill someone you care about, Lara?”

 _No_.

Kassandra lowers the weapon, cradles Lara’s mud and blood-streaked cheek with her other hand. Her thumb runs across the fresh scars there, soothes the burning ache. “You won’t kill me,” she whispers.

Lara wants to lean in the touch, but it feels wrong. It feels wrong, wrong like the churning in her guts, like her mind screaming at her to shoot, like her heart begging for a kiss.

It feels wrong, but she wants it.

“You won’t do it,” Kassandra repeats, breathes on her lips. “Because you love me.”

She doesn’t know who leans in first, her mind is laser-focused, drinking in the lips pressed against hers. Lara searches and searches but finds no comfort in them; it’s everything she’s wanted, and nothing at all.

It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. It feels wrong, and right, and wrong, and right again, with each swipe of Kassandra’s tongue on her lower lip, in Lara’s mouth when she opens it, teasing her when she sighs. Her mind, her heart, they scream.

_Stop it._

_Keep going._

_Stop._

_Continue._

Lara kisses back and she hates herself for it. Her body reacts, it’s primal, it’s instinctual, the response, like the fluttering in her stomach when Kassandra’s hands start traveling, rough pads drawing patterns on the sticky skin of her bare arms, then down encircling her hips, bringing her closer none too gently, with the pistol still pressed between them.

The motion pulls on the wound at her side, but Lara is too far gone, lips moving, growing frantic, and hungry, and open-mouthed as she searches and searches again for a sliver of warmth in the furnace of want. Kassandra’s hands travel again, settling on the seat of her pants and squeeze, drawing a whimper out of her.

Their proximity pulls on her side again, enough to take Lara out of her search, with Kassandra’s lip trapped between her teeth. She tugs a little, before letting it go, entranced by the swell of those lips stretching into a smile.

It’s unsettling, the way Kassandra looks at Lara. Like a stranger, like a threat. Like an…

“Outsider,” Sam’s voice materializes behind her. “You were too late,” she whispers in Japanese, close to her ear.

_Get away!_

The throb is acute in her back when Himiko stabs her. Lara tries to scream, but Kassandra’s lips are on hers again, swallowing her wails and drinking her blood. It’s sick, it’s twisted but Kassandra won’t let go and Himiko is still stabbing.

 _Let go_... 

… 

 

 

Eyes like liquid honey peering over her. It was the first Lara saw when she opened hers. She didn’t notice the crease of worry on the woman’s face. Delirious with the phantom sensation of being trapped in Kassandra’s arms while Himiko repeatedly stabbed her in the back, she reacted: 

Lara swatted Kassandra’s hand away. Recoiling from her, she leaned up and scrambled away awkwardly, huddling against the wall. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped.

She could still feel the pain. The yearning, the lips, and burrowed into herself, willing her body to just _stop_.

Kassandra froze, hand mid-air and mouth agape. “Okay, Lara,” she muttered softly, both palms up and facing the archaeologist. “No touching,” before crawling away to the middle of her bedroll. “You had a nightmare,” she said, noting Lara’s rasped breathing and shivers.

The archaeologist blinked warily at her until Kassandra stood up, joints popping with the motion as she navigated in the dark. Lara heard her open a crate, before the weight of a heavy curtain enveloped her frame. She winced, when Kassandra crouched next to her, keeping her distance. “Do you want water?”

Eyes like liquid honey. Looking at her like she was a threat. Worried, looking at her like they knew her.

Lara closed her eyes, trying to chase the images away, digging her nails in the skin of her knees, her mind flailing wildly, trying to grasp at the threads of reality. She shook her head after a while and swallowed thickly. “I’m…” her voice was hoarse. Had she been screaming? “Okay.”

She was still in it. Vivid, like the feeling of those lips on hers, the touch of those hands, the blinding pain in her back. Lara winced, digging deeper, breathing in and out, in and out again and again.

 _It was a nightmare. You are safe. Safe_. _You are safe_.

She lifted her head, seeing as much as sensing Kassandra withdrawing, face closing and lips drawn.

“I… I…”

Kassandra shook her head. “It’s my fault, I apologize,” she frowned, biting her lip. “You were saying my name, I thought…”

 _I thought I hurt you_.

Silence draped over them like a black veil. Kassandra stood up and shuffled awkwardly on her feet, eyes focused on her cloak nearby. Lara watched her profile, saw the crease near her lower lip, the way she kept biting at her cheek. She knew the signs by now; frustration, helplessness as plain as day. The archaeologist curled on herself, bringing her knees closer to her chest. Kassandra moved, throwing the cloak over herself.

Lara startled again when she came closer again to grab the mask.

“I’ll come back later,” Kassandra told the younger woman, already up the stairs to open the hatch.

She didn’t come back.

It went on for days; waking up in cold sweats, fear gripping at her chest. The fourth night it happened, Lara jerked upright - only to find the bedroll next to hers empty. Relief and guilt had squeezed tightly at her heart then. 

Kassandra started avoiding her at nightfall, leaving the hold, coming back only when the bellowing sailors started their morning routine and Lara was awake. She would find her above deck sometimes, giving a hand to the sailors who had the misfortune of working at night or early dawn, or up the mast standing guard, waiting to see land.

They spoke, but never really talked. Every attempt to deride from shallow topics was met with monosyllabic answers, when Kassandra wasn’t blatantly ignoring her. She couldn't get to her neither at night nor during the day.

Lara just wanted to talk, _damn it._ They needed to talk, about Yamatai, about… about _things_. Her frustration rose as a few more days went by and the captain of the ship informed her they would be reaching Attika soon.

 _Sod it,_ Lara gritted her teeth, glaring at the horizon. If Kassandra didn’t want to talk, then she would listen, at least. Even if it meant the archaeologist would be giving a monologue to a wall for one hour. She took a deep breath and stomped her way to the hatch, ready to deal with this.

Stepping down towards the hold, she found Kassandra sitting cross-legged on her bedroll, hands folded in front of her and eyes closed. Lara had rarely seen her meditating openly since they started travelling together, Kassandra had the habit of stopping right when she would feel her presence, joking about interference and how her thoughts were too loud.

Not this time, though.

Lara watched her take slow, deep and measured breaths for almost two hours before Kassandra opened her eyes, looking disoriented for a split second, dazed, like she had just woken up from a slumber.

Maybe she had been sleeping. God knows where she slept lately, if at all. 

_Eyes like liquid honey._

“Hey,” Lara tried and winced right as it came out. Too loud. Out of place. 

“Hello,” the woman’s voice was scratchy from misuse.

“Feeling better?” she forced out. This was going awfully bad.

Kassandra hummed, a leather band trapped between her lips as she gathered her hair up in a half-loose bun and tied the knot. It was strangely entrancing to watch fine strands of hair gliding through the space between her fingers when she wrangled them up with practiced movements.

“I do,” her speaking startled Lara out of her observations; she’d forgotten her question. “I can breathe normally now,” Kassandra inhaled, wincing a little and deflated. “Well. Almost.”

“I’m glad,” it was like every word that came out of her mouth proceeded to dig a deeper hole between them. A sense of dread filled Lara when hazel eyes leveled on her, studying the young woman for a long time.

Her face was completely blank. She opened her mouth, but Lara beat her to it, blurting: “I’m sorry about the—”

“Please,” Kassandra interrupted her; hand raised limply. “No more apologies, I told you,” she managed a weak smile. “Besides, you’re not responsible.”

 _I am,_ is what her words said.

Lara didn’t want her thinking that because it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true at all. If only Kassandra would _listen_ …

“There’s something I always tell myself,” Kassandra began fidgeting with her fingers. “Words can be deceiving, even eyes can lie,” her hand went up, tapping at her temple with her index finger. “But not your brain.” she breathed, looking down, and then back at Lara. “I’ve lied to you enough. And now you’re lying to yourself, but your subconscious can’t. It catches up with you every night.”

 _No…_  

“Kassandra, please,” Lara’s voice was meek. “Don’t say that, it’s not—”

“True?” she asked before chuckling quietly. “We both know it is,” she rose to her feet and approached the archaeologist, keeping her distance. “You might not want to see it when you’re awake, but you can’t ignore it when you’re asleep.”

Lara shook her head stubbornly. Kassandra was reading this backwards, shouldering a burden that wasn’t hers to carry.

“You’ll keep having those nightmares, Lara,” she said, no louder than a whisper. “And I will keep being in them,” her head tilted down, searching the young woman’s eyes.

Lara saw where this was going and shook her head. “I don’t want you to leave,” she knew it sounded desperate, but it was true. If Kassandra wanted to hold her accountable for the nightmares her brain cooked up, fine. But she wasn’t going to let her leave. Not after everything that had happened. Not after Chios. “I… I will get through this, I’ll find a way,” words came out, rapid and needy. “Just, please don’t…”

“Hey,” Kassandra stopped her, reaching and squeezing the tension out of the archaeologist’s shoulder. Lara hadn’t realized how on edge this discussion had made her. “I’m not going anywhere,” she muttered, soothing her turmoil. “I’ll still be around.”

Lara gaped, staring helplessly at Kassandra.

_No…_

“I’ll just make myself scarce for a while. I think you need it.”

 _No, no, no._  

She was reading this completely wrong. It wasn’t what Lara wanted nor needed. She had to tell Kassandra. She had to open her mouth and tell her. They needed to talk this out, not avoid it.  

_No…_

“Can’t really do much in this hold,” her arm made a wide arc around them, her smile wry. “But I’ve been trying. And I’ll let you breathe when we reach Athens.”

_No!_

“There’s a lot to see, anyway for someone like you,” Kassandra forced out. “You’ll be busy, you won’t notice. The city is full of wonders.”

She would notice. She absolutely would.

Lara deflated completely; all the pep talk had been useless. Kassandra, bull-headed as she was, refused to listen. The young woman swallowed, her tongue poking out to wet her lips before she looked up, and stared, stared until it dawned on her.

_“I’m doing it to protect myself.”_

Eyes like liquid honey, resolute and intense, hiding the cowering woman beneath them.

 _“You have no idea_ _…_ _How much you scare me.”_

“Is it really what you want?” Lara asked.

 _Tell me the truth_.

Kassandra swallowed, eyes boring into hers. “It’s what you need Lara, whether you admit it to yourself or not.”

Oh, for God’s _sake_.

“Bollocks,” the archaeologist spat, surprising both Kassandra and herself. “What I need,” she went on. “Is for you to listen to me,” she lifted her hand when the other woman opened her mouth. “Listen,” she stressed. “And don’t interrupt. Okay?”

She waited until Kassandra nodded. Lara started fidgeting, feeling the other woman’s gaze on her. She took a deep breath and spoke, “I don’t blame you.”

Kassandra couldn’t understand why. “You should—”

“Don’t interrupt,” Lara’s fingers stopped her halfway, a gentle press on her lips. “I don’t blame you,” she blinked, eyes flickering towards her fingers before she removed them and looked Kassandra in the eyes. “What happened there… Roth, Alex, Grim and all the others, is my fault. I led them there.”

There. She said it. The guilt over the fates of her friends and the poor souls who had followed her would never leave; the therapy sessions weren’t going to cure her of it. That’s not how it worked. There was only so much she could share with shrinks, and the sessions did help to some extent. But this burden was hers and hers alone. Not Kassandra’s.

The woman swallowed and shook her head. Bull-headed as always. “Without me—”

“Without you,” Lara cut her off before taking that last step, and allowing herself to cradle Kassandra’s haunted face in her hands. _It’s not a dream,_ the thought buzzed about in her head. This was real. “Without you, Himiko would have enslaved every island of Japan. If what you said is true, and I know it is,” she squeezed her cheek, gently, bringing hazel eyes back to hers. “The world would have been doomed.”

“Lara…”

“You did the right thing, Kassandra. It was the only way,” she smiled, soft and tentative. “What happened afterwards wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

She couldn’t have predicted that a shy bookworm, with a fresh archaeology-degree and something to prove, would be the one to uncover the secret sealed within the dragon triangle.

“My nightmares…” she went on, shrugging helplessly. “They come and go,” Lara lowered her hands. “I have no control over them, but I’m getting better,” she blinked, flashing Kassandra a nervous smile. “So, bear with me?” Lara cleared her throat, running her finger down the other woman’s arm until it reached her hand. “We’re in this together, remember?”

_Together._

Kassandra lowered her gaze to their intertwined hands and squeezed, nodding silently.

_Together._

-0-

 

The road from Phaleron’s bay to Athens was surprisingly empty, save for the two women walking. It was good to feel solid ground under her boots, Lara mused, after months of creaking and groaning wood floating on the waves. Her excitement skyrocketed the closer they came to Athens, to the point that she subconsciously fast-walked ahead and left Kassandra in the dust, twenty meters behind her.

“The city isn’t going to disappear, you know…” she heard her companion say, muffled by the mask.

Lara slowed down a little, giving her a sheepish but bright smile when she turned around. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“Excited?” Kassandra finished for her, chuckling when Lara nodded. “I’m sure you’ll like it.”

The archaeologist grinned again; she was practically vibrating with anticipation when Kassandra fell into pace with her. They walked in comfortable silence, Lara taking the lead once again, while the other woman got so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice when Lara froze, and collided right into her.

“Why did you…” Kassandra followed her gaze, drinking in the humongous city below. “Oh.”

The Acropolis on the hill, standing strong, tall and _whole_. A bronze and golden Athena was guarding it, just as high as it was, the helmet gleaming under the sunlight. The colors, petals, _peplos_ , music and voices droning, white noise. She could see people, moving like little ants in the maze of small houses and lavish temples.

Athens bubbled with nervous energy, just like always.

“Wow…” Lara gaped, staring until her eyes started to burn. “What a view…”

A smile tugged at Kassandra’s lips, seeing the archaeologist’s reaction. “Told you,” she whispered. “I felt the same when I first came here.”

Lara still hadn’t teared her gaze away from the city encircled by walls. “Really?”

She nodded. “Kephallonia is tiny, Sami was a small town, and Sparta…” Kassandra trailed off before shrugging. “Bad memories,” her childhood forever tainted.

“I see,” Lara squeezed her arm above the gauntlet and offered a sympathetic smile. She’d had a love-hate relationship with Croft manor, too. Growing up happy, surrounded by parental love, never questioning its fickle fragility until her mother’s death. Following her passing, Richard had grown distant and dismissive, refusing to allow himself to mourn with his daughter, preferring to throw his last forces into the research of Kitezh and the Divine Source with the foolish hope to bring Amelia back. Her father’s death had been the last straw, and the time between Lara’s visits gradually turned from weeks into months, then the occasional Christmas celebration with Winston - until she didn’t come back anymore and left the Manor to decay for almost a decade.

It didn’t compare to Kassandra’s trauma, but still.

The other woman cleared her throat, looking around them again to make sure they were alone, before she spoke, “You will be meeting a lot of people here,” she paused. “Famous people.”

Lara could already hear it in her tone, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “No gawking,” she said. “I know,” she was seasoned now.

Kassandra nodded once, but she still looked at her. “If you meet Sokrates…” the archaeologist’s face lit up. “Don’t fall into his trap, he will talk you to death.”

 _If…_ Lara frowned. “You will be here, right?” and saw her shrug, moving her head left and right.

“I have some things to take care of,” the archaeologist quirked an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. “There are a few Cultists here…”

Hearing those words made Lara’s blood freeze instantly, a cold shudder rattling through her, flashes of Chios, the smoke in her nose, the smell of death. “Your brother?”

She heard Kassandra swallow and hum lowly. “He will come,” the woman looked around again before taking Lara’s hand. “But he’s not here yet…” she trailed off, peering down at the city again. “At least, I don’t think so,” before refocusing on the archaeologist. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

Lara’s heart skipped a few beats at those words. Her gaze lowered when she felt the familiar, acute flush of reddening cheeks.

_Oh._

She blinked slowly, as if coming under a bright light. Her heart was doing somersaults in her ribcage, her mind burrowing into itself, causing the woman to inspect her feelings under a magnifying glass. She could disregard the mirages that cowered when she woke up, ignore the phantom sensations lingering from her dreams. Those emotions hid away in the confines of her head, waiting for nightfall to manifest. But the sun was bright, and this was neither a dream, nor a nightmare. This was real, which meant the little tingling in her heart was real as well. And Lara knew exactly what that meant.

“Lara?” she blinked again, lifting her head, looking at Kassandra behind the mask, recognizing the flicker of worry in her voice.

_Eyes like liquid honey._

“I’m fine,” the archaeologist told her. She was too busy contemplating the life choices that had led her to her recent epiphany. Oddly enough, it was not filling her with dread, or fear, not exactly. Not even any kind of anticipation, really. It was just… there. A new addition sitting idle in the myriad of thoughts occupying her mind. She did not see more clearly, colors weren’t suddenly brighter, birds weren’t chirping away, singing an ode to her finally figuring out her feelings, she wasn’t feeling any lighter and her heart wasn’t threatening to burst with the weight of it all.

Yet she _knew._ She saw it clear as day, now.

“Let’s, uh…” Lara blinked again, trying to subdue the raging turmoil inside her. “Let’s try to avoid him?” 

That was weak, forced, even to her own ears. She could feel Kassandra’s gaze on her, could acutely picture the frown of her eyebrows behind the mask; she knew the archaeologist was hiding something. Thankfully she didn’t push on. “We will.” 

It took a great deal of inner strength, but Lara managed to shove her newfound realization at the back of her mind to be revisited later, when she was alone. She gave Kassandra a meek nod, a small smile and turned around to walk towards Athens. They reached the fortified walls after a few hours of trekking on the bumpy edges of the small cliffs surrounding the city. Troops were walking out of the Eastern gate, the polemarch leading them back to where she and Kassandra had come from.

Lara knew it was silly, but she couldn’t help twirling around herself when she stepped inside the agora. So much to see, so many people, the temples… it took all her self-restraint not to run from building to building and launch into a tirade, comparing her extensive knowledge of Greek history and customs to the real thing.

Visiting Athens was like a dream come true, Kassandra was right; there would be a lot of things to do here before they left. The other woman had been pretty cryptic as to why they had come, only asking Lara if she was up to date on her vaccinations and to keep a waterskin of alcohol and clean cloth with her at all times. The archaeologist hadn’t asked questions, but she wasn’t stupid; she figured the plague would be hitting soon.

Only a third of this humongous human cluster would survive. It was strange being in Athens knowing what would happen soon; was this how Kassandra always felt? The dread and apprehension squeezing her ribcage? It was even worse not being able to do anything about it, lest they alter the passage of time.

Bellowing merchants drew Lara out of her musings, the sweet scents of roasted goat and vegetables inviting her to step closer to the stalls. Her belly rumbled; the nervous excitement of being here subduing a little as she eyed the food. Everything looked so delicious, mouthwatering - especially after two months at sea, chewing on dried meat and nuts. 

“Are you hungry?” she asked when she felt Kassandra behind her and tilted her head. The other woman shrugged, nodding a little behind the mask.

Right. No talking, especially so close to other people. The archaeologist surprised herself wondering just how many of them Kassandra knew personally. Had they walked by a friend of hers without noticing?

“Okay,” Lara turned back towards the stall owner, an old man with a stained _peplos_ that did a very poor job at hiding his protuberant stomach. He grinned, giving her a bit of everything and complimenting the young woman on her Greek. “Thank you,” she stammered awkwardly, walking away with her arms full. Once she made sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop, she spoke again. “People are a lot nicer here.”

Kassandra walked closer, taking one of the _skeuos_ as she whispered back in English: “Athenians are generally open. A little more than the rest,” she drew her index finger and thumb close together.

Lara nodded along; she had read about that as well. It felt different to experience it first-hand after almost two years of roaming the Greek world. She was going to talk again, when the other woman froze, her whole body stiffening as she looked ahead.

 _“Maláka_ ," she pivoted suddenly, holding the bag in a vice grip.

“What is it?” Lara whispered back. 

“Kassandra, ten o’clock.” 

“Ka—w-what?” the archaeologist veered around with all the finesse of an elephant, gasping quietly when she noticed the Eagle Bearer striding towards them, all swagger, her golden linothorax shining under the sunlight. Trust her to be wearing Spartan garbs of armor in _Athens_. The Eagle Bearer was sure to draw the attention of wary civilians and troops alike. How did she even find them in this crowd?

“God, damn it,” Lara cursed. Of all people. Of all _places_.

She saw the look of surprise on the misthios’ face when she noticed a very-alive ’slave’ standing right next to the archaeologist. It was gone a second later, replaced by a sly grin.

Lara’s hand flew to her axe on instinct before Kassandra caught her wrist halfway. “What do you think you’re doing?” she muttered urgently. “Let go.” 

The young woman turned around, looking at her with wide eyes. “W-what if she tries to kill me?” 

Lara heard Kassandra blow through the mask. “Here? In the marketplace?” before shaking her head. “Mercenaries do not attack their own outside the battlefield,” she squeezed Lara’s wrist gently, prompting her to release the axe. “I cleared your bounty, you’re safe. Now, let go of the axe before she sees it,” she said before grabbing the other bag in Lara’s arms and stepping back.

Right, that made sense.

But still. “What do you think she wants?” Lara’s ribcage was tight, her pulse through the roof. Kassandra chanced a look behind the archaeologist, and shrugged helplessly.  

“To talk?” 

Right. Obviously. 

“Very insightful,” Lara rolled her eyes at the other woman before smacking her lips together. “Thank you,” she took a deep breath to gather her thoughts, and stepped in front of Kassandra. 

 _Don’t let them touch_ , she reminded herself. For someone so close to instant death, Kassandra had sounded deceptively relaxed just now. Lara decided to tap into it. If she was this calm, then there was nothing to fear. 

Hopefully.

The Eagle Bearer was on them in a blink. “ _Chaire_ , foreigner,” she removed her Korinthian helmet, revealing her twinkling eyes and a luminous grin. “We finally meet again." 

She had never seen Kassandra smile like this before. So big and open, with a boldness that tethered on seductive. Very confusing.

“Yes,” Lara’s tone wasn’t intentionally flat, but given the situation, she couldn’t give her the impression that she was interested. “The Gods certainly favor you,” she said, using one of the generic expressions she’d been taught a while back. “Eagle Bearer.”

Kassandra’s grin widened, all cocky energy and definitely seductive, Lara mused. It was odd to be on the receiving end of it. She felt awkward, especially with the other Kassandra standing just behind them. “The Gods have nothing to do with this,” the charismatic misthios gave a dismissive wave with her hand before leaning over the young woman conspicuously. “I wanted to see your pretty face again.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. 

Lara heard a snort behind her and fought to smother her own smile. She kept her eyes trained on Kassandra - who had thrown a fleeting glare behind the archaeologist at the sound escaping her ‘slave’. “Why?” 

The question, coupled with Lara’s poker face, was enough to throw the other woman off her groove. Her nose scrunched up; brows creased in a slight frown - eerily similar to the face (her) Kassandra made every time something she hadn’t accounted for happened. 

The confidence that had been oozing out of the Eagle Bearer as she strode towards them lost a bit of its intensity at Lara’s apparent unwillingness to entertain her, before it came back in full force like a figurative slap to the face: 

“I would like to speak with you,” her voice rose up in a nervous laugh as she added hastily, “For real this time. With words, not swords. In private?”

She flashed Lara a smile, as if to ease the woman's sudden tension at the proposal, and glanced back at her slave again, "Nothing will happen to her, I promise,” before refocusing back on Lara and adding with a wink, “I don’t mind company, but I prefer not to share.”

There was another snort behind Lara, followed by a loud and obvious scoff. The archaeologist could feel the rising tension radiating from both of them as they engaged in a stare down. She opened her mouth, ready to speak when a flash of dotted yellow caught her attention. It was running straight towards them, and fast. Lara froze, stiffening, ready to make a run for it. 

Kassandra moved closer, grabbing her hand discreetly and squeezed it. _It’s okay,_  she let go a second later.

The cheetah rounded them, coming to a halt at the Eagle Bearer’s feet. Lara saw the pleased, honest smile on her face when she crouched down. “There you are,” she cooed while scratching the animal’s head. Its tongue lolled out, trying to lick her palm as it purred in delight. “Good boy.” 

Really, now? 

Lara blinked, captivated by the surreal scene playing in front of her. Kassandra didn’t just hunt cheetahs, no. She tamed them, too. How does one even tame a cheetah?

The patting and cooing went on for a few minutes, the Eagle Bearer tuning everything out until she froze and stopped suddenly, standing up with a nervous smile as she refocused all her bubbling attention back on Lara and left the animal to roam around. “Sorry, he can be a handful,” she was sheepish, rubbing at her neck awkwardly. “He’s still learning to be around people.”

The archaeologist blinked in sheer disbelief. “Uh,” she tensed when the animal approached her. “I see…”

It sniffed at her leg, rubbing its head against it for a bit before completely bypassing her to glide its way behind. The purring came back in full force when it sniffed at Kassandra’s prone form, complete with a small high-pitched meow.   

_Crap._

The Eagle Bearer frowned at the display, clearly confused by the turn of events. “He doesn’t usually do that…” she mused out loud before offering another smile. “Your slave—I mean _friend_ ,” she stammered, clearing her throat when Lara glared, waving her hand in apology and tried again. “Your friend, he must like your friend’s scent.”

The irony of that statement didn’t escape Lara, nor Kassandra behind her who was doing everything she could to get rid of the clingy animal begging for belly rubs. It rolled on its back gazing at her expectantly. The archaeologist heard a quiet sigh before Kassandra relented and crouched, running her hand on the clear but coarse fur.

The Eagle Bearer watched her thoughtfully, before tilting her head. “Meet me on the heights of Thorikos?” she blurted after a long while, surprising both women.

Lara startled, turning around to face her. “What?” her eyes narrowed when she saw the look on Kassandra’s face.

“Tonight,” the misthios grinned, radiating with smug bravado - like she knew Lara wouldn’t refuse her, “Meet me on Thorikos at sunset.”

Kassandra put the Korinthian helmet back on her head, “I have something of yours,” she said and bowed her head, not waiting for Lara’s answer before biding her goodbye with a wink and another sultry smile, “ _Chaire_ , Daughter of Hephaïstos.”

Lara watched her leave with the cheetah stalking close behind, utterly confused by the conversation.

“Congratulations,” Kassandra muttered in English, behind her when they were alone. “You just scored a date.”

The nerve.

* * *

 

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Lara had reached a shrilling octave that was on the verge of breaking her voice.

Her distress would have been hilarious, had Kassandra been in the mood. She shrugged, checking if the door was locked for the third time before she removed her mask, breathing a sigh of relief. The day had been hot, her forehead was gleaming, she could feel sweat running down her forehead. She eyed one of the water pots nearby, mulling over the idea to just submerge her whole face in it and scream. Kassandra shook her head.

“Why?” she asked, gathering water in the palm of her hands and splashing her face. “I will drop dead if she sneezes on me,” her voice was dull, muffled by the cloth she used to towel her nose and cheeks.

Lara’s shoulders sagged. Kassandra had a point, she knew it. The risk was too great, and she would appreciate not reliving another perfectly avoidable death.

“Besides,” she continued, walking towards the heap of pillows on cushioned rugs she had claimed while Lara took the _klinē_ \- the inns were ridiculously expensive in Attika but lavishly decorated, “She said it herself, she just wants to talk to you.”

“I don’t see why,” Lara lamented, but oh - Kassandra knew exactly why, “I almost killed her last time,” the archaeologist said in a breath. Lara plopped herself halfway on the table and observed Kassandra carefully, “What if it’s a trap?”

“It’s not a trap,” Kassandra removed her cloak and worked on untying her breastplate.

“How do you know?”

She stopped halfway, looking at the young woman from the corner of her eye and wondering if Lara was genuinely that oblivious to her power of attraction, “Because this isn’t the face I make when I want to kill someone,” she said plainly and mimicked the seductive grin her younger self had been sporting, while ignoring the brewing feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach, “She is intrigued, is all.”

Aka _intrigued._

Lara observed her for a long while, with the same expression she had when they stopped on the hills overlooking Athens. Confused and unsure, like some unspeakable thought was buzzing about in her head - one she desperately wanted to share, but fear sealed her lips shut. Kassandra ignored it as best she could. It wasn’t her place to ask. She busied herself with untangling the chains around her arms before crouching to remove the greaves.

“And you’re…” the tinge of nervousness was palpable in the archaeologist’s hushed voice, “ _Okay_ with that?”

Kassandra froze midway again, lifting her head to give Lara a long look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

_Answer a question with another question, like the coward you are._

All she got was a shrug followed by more silence. Lara was lost in her head and Kassandra was trying everything to get out of hers. She should have seen it coming really, she wasn’t blind, which meant the Eagle Bearer wasn’t blind either. And when _that_ Kassandra saw something she liked, whether that be a shiny piece of armor, the sweet clinking of drachmae, or a pretty face, she usually went for it. Consequence be damned.

Her younger self was brash and oozed with all the impudence of her age. She would sweep Lara away right under her nose and give her a mock curtsy to add offense to the injury. Kassandra had enough emotional luggage to fill a dozen A380 to the brim. Unlike her, the Eagle Bearer wasn’t tied to some ancestral prophecy (yet), she had seen nothing of the horrors of humanity (yet). And she wasn’t _old,_ withering under the weight of too many heartbreaks, barely standing on her shaky legs _._ Her younger self was a breeze of fresh air in winter mornings. The kind of cold, prickly wind that made one feel _alive._

And she had Lara in her sights. Obviously.

It was a sharp, painful reminder of Kassandra’s own mortality. Impending death and these emotions were a bad mix, no matter how she had yearned to feel that way again. A twisted irony, living two and a half millennia, longing to feel the flutters of love again, only for it to happen when there were next to no time left.

As Daphnae always said, the Gods had a sense of humor. A twisted one.

Kassandra stood up, only wearing her chiton as she approached a pensive Lara, who was still leaning on the table. She chanced a look through the window, at the sun slowly beginning its descent. 

“She just wants to talk to you,” Kassandra muttered, offering a small smile when the archaeologist glanced up at her, “You came out of nowhere and beat her into submission.” 

She stood there, forcing herself to remain still, to not reach for Lara and squeeze her hand. “You spared her life when you could have killed her. I think she just wants to understand.”

Lara shook her head with a quiet huff. “When you put it like that…” she smiled a little when Kassandra chuckled.

If only she knew how much it was costing her. “You should go, try to see what she’s been up to,” her brow creased into a frown. “She wasn’t supposed to be here, it’s too early.”

Kassandra conveniently ignored the glaring fact that the Eagle Bearer’s presence in Athens, a couple of weeks before she was due was probably _her_ fault.

Maybe she should have thought twice before leaving the drachmae for Barnabas to find, like the altruistic, emotional fool she was. Maybe then, she wouldn’t be standing there nudging the woman she cared too much about into the arms of someone else.

Well… not someone else, per se. Just not _her_.

Kassandra closed her eyes, willing the raging storm inside to subdue. She opened them to see Lara peering at her curiously.

“We’ve altered the course of time,” the archaeologist said.

Kassandra did. Nuance. 

“I think so, yes.”

Lara squinted, thousands of thoughts, probably running in her head. Kassandra could literally see the question marks aligning one after the other. She clenched her jaw in anticipation, feeling the archaeologist gaze on her. The woman took a small breath to steady herself when Lara opened her mouth.

“How did you tame a bloody cheetah?”

Her eyes bulged out for a second, staring back in disbelief before she barked out a relieved laugh. “What?” the young woman shrugged, waving her arms around, clearly waiting for an answer.

Kassandra shook her head, eyes still twinkling with mirth. Of all things Lara could and should have asked…

“I…” she cleared her throat, rummaging through her memories. “I was a little lonely,” admitting it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as she would have thought. Kassandra scratched her cheek. “Male cheetahs are social creatures, like dogs. They usually live in pairs. He was alone too, when I found him. Very young,” she remembered how he’d bared his teeth at her, frightened and curling upon himself in that cave in Messara. “I lied on my back next to him and waited until he came to me,” she grinned. “Took a couple of hours. The next day, we were best friends.”

Lara hummed thoughtfully. “This skill could have come in handy when I was in Peru,” Kassandra quirked an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. “The scars on my back,” her lips tugged up, small and insecure. “Jaguar.”

“Ah,” the woman nodded in understanding. “I see.”

“I didn’t want to kill them…” Lara trailed off; eyes downcast before shrugging helplessly.

“But you had to,” Kassandra said, finally allowing herself to reach out and squeeze the archaeologist’s shoulder. She had been in that position too, whether it was hunting for pelts, drachmae or simply survival. “Tell you what,” her voice rose, sounding more cheerful. “I will teach you how to tame animals when we get back to the present, deal? It will help for your next expedition.”

“Or you could just come with me,” Lara blurted, realizing too late that the thought materialized out of her mouth.

Kassandra blinked, her heart skipping several beats in her ribcage. “What?” 

The young woman started fidgeting with her fingers, she took a deep breath and looked at her in the eye. “My next expedition,” her voice was quivering a little. “You could join, if you want. Whenever it is. I mean…” her arms flailed around the place, as the creeping realization of what she was implying registered. “If you’re not busy with other things, and uh, maybe looking for a job?”

It took several attempts for Kassandra to finally close her mouth. “Really?”

Lara averted her gaze for a second. She swallowed before giving her a resolute nod. “We make a good team. I usually work alone, but I…” her cheeks colored faintly. “I would feel better knowing you have my back. Safer.”

_Safer._

Lara felt safe with her. The thought was filling her with warmth, an open admission that made Kassandra’s whole being flutter. “Okay,” she grinned, ignoring the growing sense of dread churning in her guts.

It kept screaming at her, squeezing painfully at her fast-beating heart, tempering her light-headed emotions.

 _Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,_ the words kept blinking in her head like warnings, even after Lara left to meet with the Eagle Bearer.

_Don’t make promises you can’t keep._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean... they did kiss... in Lara's nightmare. 
> 
> (They'll kiss for real I promise. Soon.)
> 
> Outsider is how the Solarii and Mathias called Lara every time they spotted her. 
> 
> So, I had that scene between the three of them written for ages until my phone crapped on me and I lost everything. It was ready! I had to rewrite it from memory and forgot half of the original scene, but I hope second meeting between the Kasses did live up to your expectations! EB!Kass trying - and failing - to woo Lara gave me second-hand embarrassment, not gonna lie.
> 
> Also, who is on for a showdown between EB!Kass and Keeper!Kass fighting over Lara's affections? 
> 
> And yes, male cheetahs are like cat-dogs. They live in pairs or three and are super social, unlike females which are more solitary. They purr! And meow! And could claw you to death, but I mean... they purr!


	18. Chapitre Dix-Sept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! I have a lot of things to say but you can skip the AN and go straight to the vocab/chapter.  
> This whole month has been very, very stressful and I've got to say, your words of encouragements and the general engagement in this fic did wonders to help me get through this hell of a month. It's not exactly over, but it'll settle down soon. Anyway, thank you, all of you who read, left thoughtful comments, kudo-ed and followed! Last chapter was a blast to write!
> 
> Fantastic artists made art inspired by this fic and I'm over the moon! Check this out:
> 
> https://shyinka.tumblr.com/post/190928138978/fanart-for-hazell-and-her-amazing-fanfiction-you  
> https://lemonbicycle6.tumblr.com/post/610879634928795648/show-chapter-archive
> 
> Thank you, you have absolutely no idea how giddy that made me! If any of you feel inclined to make art, please do! I'd be honored, and shoot me a message or something, so I can gush over it :D
> 
> On another note, HighkeyCrazy started their own EagleRaider fic because we definitely need more KassxLara in our lives, highly recommend checking their work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844995/chapters/54599446
> 
> It's late where I am and my beta expressively told me not to update now. As you can see, I'm following their advice. They worked hard on this as well. Awesome beta is awesome and deserves the praise.
> 
> vocab:  
> silphe is the Greek for cockroach, or whatever ancestor from hell the cockroach has. It's a close cousin, if you will.  
> sambyke is a musical instrument that's like a small portative harp  
> pteryges is the defensive shoulder straps/leather skirt worn by warriors  
> sideritis are medicinal plants
> 
> I had to play fast and loose with some historical events, my bad.
> 
> Little warning for violence here.

 

Kassandra had walked back to the _Adrestia_ with a small bounce to her step and butterflies in her stomach. Barnabas and Odessa had both thrown her curious looks that she had pretended not to see. Patience had never been one of her strong points, unless it involved tracking people or animals, and anticipation had made her restless. After roaming around Athens looking to spend some time with Phoibe – who had been too busy running Aspasia’s errands to pay her any attention (“She pays so well, Kassandra! She is so nice!”) – the woman had opted to go back to the ship.

Myrinne’s eyes were twinkling knowingly, a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.The sight of her estranged daughter never ceased to fill her with wonder, after decades apart. Months traveling together, nights spent talking until exhaustion slurred their words, and she still pinched herself sometimes.

“My lamb,” she approached Kassandra at the helm, running her fingers above the gauntlet and up her forearm. Myrinne thought she would never get to do this again. “What’s on your mind?” the lilt in her voice was light as she observed her daughter staring at the sun, willing it to set with her scalding glare alone.

Kassandra startled a little, turning to her with a gentle smile. “Mater,” she squeezed Myrinne’s fingers above her forearm. Strong and slender, the fingers of a spear wielder. “No one,” Kassandra’s face dissolved, realizing too late what she had said out loud.

Traitorous mouth.

Myrinne nodded, letting out a quiet snort when her daughter huffed and looked back towards the Aegean Sea. “Someone special?” she dared after a few minutes of quiet.

Kassandra’s shoulders rose with her sigh, she looked up, wetting her lips before shaking her head no. “Someone interesting.”

 _Daphnae_ was special. Daphnae would always be special.

“She almost killed me,” Kassandra continued, offering a smile and a reassuring squeeze when she felt Myrinne stiffening. “But it’s okay, we made up…” she frowned. “I think.”

“You think?” she recognized the crease in her brow, the shine of worry in her mater’s eyes. Those traits that she had passed on to Kassandra. “What did you do?”

The woman hummed, averting Myrinne’s disapproving gaze. No matter how old she was, it never ceased to make her feel like a child all over again. Kassandra hunched over herself. “There was a bounty on her head—”

Myrinne’s hand rose, stopping her daughter halfway. “You chased this girl?”

“I needed the drachmae, Mater,” Kassandra tried when the woman threw a heated glare. “To find yo—”

“Did she deserve it?” her daughter clamped her mouth shut. “Did she  _deserve_ it, Kassandra?”

Eyes downcast, the woman shook her head. “Probably not.”

Not at all, actually.

Myrinne’s sure hand came to her chin, lifting it up so their eyes could meet. There was no judgment in those eyes, only regrets. “I wasn’t here for you. For so long, I wasn’t here…” she trailed off, blinking the blurriness away. “You grew without me, and we will never get those years back. But, Kassandra,” she said. “There is enough darkness in this world. Don’t kill innocent people for drachmae. Not anymore.”

Kassandra wanted to object, wanted to throw it back at her. Whatever she’d done all those years, the life she had led, the choices she had made. They were all guided by survival. Myrinne had no right to judge her for that.

Not when she hadn’t tried to find Kassandra at the bottom of Mount Taygetos. Not when she’d left her alone to fend for herself. Bitterness squeezed at her heart, urging the woman to bite back, be the bullheaded Spartan Myrinne and Nikolaos had raised her to be.

Kassandra watched her mater for a long while.  _She’s trying_ , a little voice pierced through the rancor, through her lingering anger.  _She’s trying. Give her a chance_.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

* * *

 

Lara knew why Kassandra had chosen Thorikos the moment she stepped up the highest hill. She turned around, narrowing her eyes at the tangerine ocean and burning sun. It was the perfect location with a panoramic view of Athens and the Aegean Sea.

The proverbial perfect spot.

The Eagle Bearer was sitting there with her back to Lara and the helmet on the grass, watching as the ocean swallowed the sun. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

She sounded a lot less confident, suddenly, the tilt of her voice smoother, more familiar to Lara’s ears. “I wasn’t going to,” the archeologist replied honestly. It was true, if it hadn’t been for her companion’s nudging.

Kassandra’s upper body shifted, she turned around, eyes gleaming golden under the setting light. “Fair enough,” she smiled. “Our last encounter might have given you the wrong impression.”

Lara quirked an eyebrow, inching closer to the other woman but not sitting down just yet. The misthios had taken her cape off, laid it on the ground to sit on, and left enough space for Lara. “Which one? When you tried to kill me, or when you tried to seduce me?”

She felt herself smile at Kassandra’s surprised laughter, a pleasant feeling tugging at her heart before Lara remembered  _who_ it was and schooled her face back into a neutral expression.

“Both?” Kassandra tried, lifting her head to squint up at Lara, fully exposing her throat. It was a dangerous position. A show of submission. Of trust. The sly smirk she had been sporting in the agora was back. “But it must have worked, since you’re here.”

Lara shook her head, rolling her eyes at the misthios’ antics. “I can still leave,” she warned. This Kassandra was certainly very full on. The archeologist took the last step and flopped down next to her. “You said you wanted to talk,” she replied after a while.

Her eyes lingered on the waves - the view was breathtaking. Sam would be all over this, taking pictures of the birds flying towards the setting sun. If only she were here.

 _Sam_ … what would she say if she knew?

_“Get it. Get the girl, Lara! Crawl out of your hole and get the girl! Stop thinking.”_

Probably.

“It is beautiful here, isn’t it?” Kassandra echoed her thoughts, watching Lara from the corner of her eye before she moved again, fumbling with the buckle of her  _pteryges._

Lara’s eyes bulged out when she heard the telltale clinking of a loosening belt. She whipped her head around to take stock of the threat, and scrambled away on the grass.

“Wait! It’s not what you think!” Kassandra lifted her head and shook her hand. “I’m not trying to…” she removed the belt, presenting it to the archeologist with an awkward laugh. “Here. This is yours, I believe?”

Lara blinked, her gaze flickering between the woman’s nervous smile and her belt. “Uh...?”

Kassandra nudged her with it. “When we fought in Phokis. On the cliff? Do you remember?”

_Oh._

“Oh.” 

She had kept it all this time. Lara hadn’t noticed her wearing it when they had met earlier.

The misthios nodded at her. “You took it out,” her lips tugged up again before quipping, “Interesting technique you used.”

Lara puffed out a small laugh. _Quick thinking and desperation, more like,_ she thought, when her eyes lingered on the belt. She frowned at the indentation on the leather. “Did you…” Lara glanced up. “Are those teeth marks? Did you bite on it?”

Kassandra held her breath, freezing for a couple of seconds before squeaking out: “No?”

That meant  _yes._

Lara’s face hadn’t moved an inch. Kassandra gave up, sighing. “Maybe,” her hand flailed in the air again before it went up and around her neck to massage her shoulder absentmindedly. “But I had a good reason!”

“I’m sure,” Lara’s chuckle was quiet. It was surprisingly easy to talk to the Eagle Bearer, she mused. A lot easier than her Kassandra, whom she’d had to fight tooth and nail with for any crumb of information the woman deigned to offer.

Fundamentally similar, yet intrinsically different. Kassandra had been shaped by centuries of living; guarded by nature, immortality had exacerbated this trait of character.

“I asked you to come here because I wanted to apologize,” the misthios’ voice startled her. It dawned on Lara that her Kassandra spoke slower when they used Greek together. Not by much, but slow enough for her to notice the difference now.

_It’s the little things._

She turned her head, looking at the woman’s profile. Her face was carefully blank, this time. No mischievous glint, not even a smile as she kept staring straight ahead. “For what?”

Kassandra cleared her throat, peering up at the darkening sky. “First, for killing your friend but…” she turned to her. “She seemed fine this morning.”

Right.

Lara nodded slowly, watching Kassandra’s face morph into an expression of wonder. “Are the rumors true?” she asked a second later. The archeologist’s confused frown prompted her to continue, “They say she comes from Tartaros. That Hades himself won’t have her in the Underworld, nor Persephone in Elysium, that he cursed her.”

Lara gave her another slow nod and stifled back her laughter, hiding it behind a coughing fit. She waved her hand when the other woman leaned over her, looking worried. “I’m okay,” she coughed again.

Where did those rumors even come from?

 _“You don’t need to explain anything…”_ Kassandra’s voice echoed in her head. _“They will come up with something they can understand and rationalize.”_

That was one way to explain immortality, indeed. A curse, never a blessing. Kassandra and Jacob would both agree, unlike Ana.

“Yes,” Lara nodded, after a while. “Something like that.”

The misthios hummed. “I see,” her eyes squinted. “Where did you find her?”

This Kassandra was certainly a lot nosier. The archeologist chewed on her lip, mind scrambling for an answer. “In a cave...?” there was no need to lie if she kept things vague. “I was looking for my… my mentor. She was searching for him as well. To…” Lara trailed off. “To lift the curse. He knows how to lift the curse. Her curse, I mean.”

That half-arsed explanation wasn’t going to win Lara the BAFTA anytime soon. Her lying skills extended as far as her shrinking social circle. As obvious as her deflecting was, it seemed to placate the misthios. Kassandra nodded again, tearing her gaze away to look back at the sea for a while.

“Thank you, for not taking my spear,” it was a whisper, so low Lara wouldn’t have caught it if she hadn’t been listening. She looked to the side to see Kassandra’s head hanging low. “It’s… it’s a family heirloom,” she smiled at the archeologist, none of the sly grins or bravado she had been sporting earlier, no smokescreens. It was something else, something shy, nervous and definitely familiar. “It belonged to my grandfather. I’ve had it since I was a child.”

 _The only thing I have left,_ the silence spoke for her.

Lara’s fingers went to her pendant - her first find; a Jade stone that Amelia had gotten engraved with a few words on the back. Roth had used one of his army-approved shoelaces to turn it into  a makeshift necklace. It took years, but Sam’s incessant nagging had her cave in, and replace it with a sturdier leather string when it started falling apart.

“I understand,” she said honestly.

Lara wondered what had become of that spear. Kassandra never mentioned it before… maybe she could ask her later.

“I didn’t know why there was so much drachmae on your head,” the other woman continued, looking down at her fidgeting fingers. She was nervous again, Lara could tell. “I needed the money, I didn’t think.”

She looked up, meeting Lara’s gaze again.  

“You helped a friend of mine.” Kassandra had also called Kyra a friend, back then, despite their discrepancies. “You fought with her,” the misthios bit her the inside of her cheek, brows creasing into a frown. “I should have been there.”

 _You_   _were_ …

“I should have been there to help,” she repeated, frustration seeping through her voice. “Instead of hunting you.”

No matter which version, Kassandra would always beat herself over past mistakes. Regrets followed her like shadows wherever she went.

Lara felt awkward under the misthios’ scrutiny. She could deal with half-hearted attempts at flirting, it was a good reminder of who she was talking to - the Kassandra she knew would never flirt with her like that, had never even tried. But honesty and genuine remorse were a whole other beast. It hit too close to home. Too close to her future self.

Lara’s hands balled into fists as she willed herself to stay still, not to reach and squeeze her arm. She gave Kassandra a weak smile and a nod, instead. “It’s okay,” she said. “It was a long time ago,” clearing her throat, she joked. “Nobody died.”

Her face fell when she realized her mistake. Lara lowered her head, jamming her eyes shut to chase away the images of Kassandra writhing on the ground as she fought an invisible noose off her neck. Lying there, unresponsive despite the archeologist’s attempts to revive her. Watching over her body in the temple, hope thinning out as hours turned into days and Kassandra didn’t wake up. 

_Never again._

The Eagle Bearer said nothing. Feeling Lara’s mood plummeting, she opted to let the conversation come to an end. She turned towards the sea, then back at the archeologist, brows creasing with her frown. “What’s your name?”

“What?” she blinked at her dumbly.

“Your name,” Kassandra repeated with a wide grin. “Daughter of Hephaïstos.”

 _Oh, right._ The bounty mustn’t have mentioned it. The Mykonians had adopted the moniker after they had destroyed the Spartan ships during the siege. Nobody except Kyra and her immediate circle knew her actual name.

“Lara,” the archeologist said. It felt weird to reintroduce herself to Kassandra like this. Though, the other woman had known who she was, back in Rintomos, almost two years ago. _“Moss talks a lot about you…”_

“My name is Lara.”

The grin widened. “It’s pretty,” her reply held none of the seductive undertones of earlier. “Does it mean anything in your language?”

Her genuine interest was throwing Lara off. She stammered awkwardly, clearing her throat, eyes narrowed in a squint. How much could she reveal?

“Not really…” she shrugged a few moments later, feeling sheepish. “My parents were travelers. Scholars. They were fond of Egypt, and named me after the Egyptian Sun God, Ra,” she was babbling. Lara knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself, this was a slippery slope. Egyptology was her kryptonite, had been ever since she learned to read and devoured every single book in her father’s office. “But it’s common,” she said, waving her hands. “Really common.”

The twinkle in Kassandra’s eyes was unnerving. “So, you are a Goddess, after all,” her laugh rose loud again when the archeologist rolled her eyes and swatted her shoulder like she’d done a thousand times to her older self. Kassandra leaned over her, whispering conspicuously, “Are you a princess?”

“No,” she chuckled despite herself. It was hard to resist, and Lara surprised herself not wanting to. Kassandra’s easy banter was nice.

“But you look like you could be a princess. And you have your own bodyguard.”

 _There_ she was again, casually dropping compliments, though she had worked on her subtlety this time.

“I’m not a princess,” Lara insisted, still smiling. “And she isn’t my bodyguard.”

Kassandra was very much her bodyguard, actually.

“She jumped in front of an arrow for you. Either you pay her very well or…”

“Or…?” Lara quirked an eyebrow, eyes twinkling.

Kassandra puffed and shook her head. “Nothing,” she bit her lip, sounding very much like she was having a laugh at Lara’s expense. They said nothing for a while, focusing back on the purple reflections of the sea.

“Have you visited Athens before?” Kassandra asked, a few minutes later, shifting her body to face Lara, her naked thigh brushing accidentally against the young woman’s.

Intentional or not, Lara didn’t pull away, eyes flickering towards their legs before she shook her head no. It wasn’t exactly a lie; the Athens she had seen as a child was  _nothing_ like the city behind her now. A pale shadow in comparison, riddled with depleted ruins that demanded a lot of imagination to see as the wonders they once were. “It’s my first time here.”

Kassandra gave her the biggest grin, eyes gleaming under the moonlight. “Are you looking for a guide?”

Lara caught on the double entendre in her tone and was tempted to say no, when she remembered that  _she_ was also on a mission. Spending more time with the Eagle Bearer meant she could find out why Kassandra had come here earlier. She squinted, giving her a long suspicious once over until the misthios started squirming, looking as guilty as her older self when she was caught off guard.

“With the most honorable intentions,” Kassandra added hastily, her voice rising a few octaves. “I promise. You can bring your friend along, if you want.”

 _“No_ , _"_  Lara blurted with more force than necessary. It would be too dangerous to have them both around each other. Besides, Kassandra did say she had things to take care of. “She won’t come.”

The misthios bit her lower lip, attempting to smother the winning smile and nodded. Clearing her throat, she told her, “So, just you and me then?”

Lara had walked right into that one. “Another word, and I will leave,” she said tersely. Kassandra was getting it all wrong. Lara was on a  _mission_.

The other woman raised her hands in a pacifying gesture before making a show of clamping her mouth shut with her palm. Her eyes narrowed into half-mooned slits with her muffled chuckle when Lara laughed.

_Dork…_

The archeologist looked up, the moon was high, higher than she thought. Time flew, Lara hadn’t realized. “It’s late,” she pointed out, peering over at Kassandra. “I need to go.”

The woman’s lips twitched down, disappointment obvious on her features, but she still nodded. Rising up to her feet at the same time as the archeologist, she observed their surroundings and asked, “Where’s your horse?”

Lara dusted the cape out of habit before handing it back to her. “I walked.”

Kassandra blinked in disbelief. “You walked?” she turned around, towards the city and its blurry lights, then back at her. “All the way?”

Lara didn’t see where the problem was. They had been walking around for close to two years now. It was okay. “Yes? Why?”

Her confused frown deepened when Kassandra grumbled something that sounded a lot like _maláka_ under her breath. She brought her index finger and thumb to her lips, letting out a shrill whistle.

Lara kept staring at her. Nothing happened for a few moments until her ears caught on steady clomping approaching. A black beast of a stallion trotted lazily towards them, stopping near Kassandra to nuzzle her chest.

“Let me take you back?” she smiled, running her hand under the horse’s jaw. “Phobos?” she called. “Meet Lara.”

The horse snorted, turning his head towards the archeologist as Kassandra mounted him.

 _Phobos_ … fitting for an animal whose large hooves looked like they could trample people and goats alike. Where did Kassandra even find those  _pets_ , anyway?

Lara’s smile was wry. The myths she had read about the Eagle Bearer riding a horse from the Underworld made a lot more sense. “I can walk,” she said, eyeing the horse suspiciously.

Kassandra had the audacity to roll her eyes, leaning over and offering her hand. “He is fast,” she gestured for Lara to come closer. “And gentle, you don’t have to be afraid.”

Phobos snorted again, staring at Lara. “I’m not,” she said, forgoing Kassandra’s help to haul herself up with one hand on his back, swinging her leg over and settling behind the misthios in one swift motion.

The horse neighed lowly but accepted the extra weight without fussing.

“Impressive,” the word rolled out of Kassandra’s mouth, tinted with incredulity when she threw a glance behind her.

Cheltenham Ladies’ College and its mandatory equestrian classes — one of the few outdoor activities deemed ladylike enough for Blue Bloods, Lara wanted to say, before remembering this Kassandra had no idea what she would be talking about.

“I’ve had practice,” she replied instead, straightening her back.

A low chuckle rumbled from the other woman’s chest as she steered the horse forward. “I can see that. Now, grab on something,” holding the reins in one hand, Kassandra put on her helmet before letting out,  _“Ela!”_

Phobos immediately dashed towards the city, galloping at full speed and forcing Lara to hold onto the nearest thing not to topple over: Kassandra’s red cape.

The horse was faster than his large frame let on. Soon enough, Athens came into focus as Phobos sped through the empty roads. A flash of dotted yellow joined them when they neared the fortified walls.

Lara felt Kassandra’s puff, her words muffled by the wind and steady clomping. “You’re back.”

The cheetah followed until they reached the gates, gliding through wary and cowering civilians without a care in the world. Phobos slowed to a light walk when they entered.

“Here is good,” Lara spoke when they reached the treasury, tapping the woman’s shoulder. “I’m not far.”

Kassandra followed her instructions, tugging on the reins and waiting until the archeologist lowered herself on the ground with a graceful leap. She followed suit, removing her helmet. “I can walk you to your inn.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake, she was absolutely relentless.

Something must have shown on Lara’s face because Kassandra started stammering awkwardly, “I mean  _walk…_ and then  _leave._ I will leave,” she stopped there, before smiling, “If that’s what you want?”

Lara eyed her, trying to reconcile the Kassandra she’d known so far with this very different side of her. She was obviously interested - intrigued, Kassandra had said - yet knew nothing about Lara, unlike her other self. Maybe it was only physical, after all.

The archeologist wouldn’t risk it.

“Thank you for the generous offer,” Lara began. “But I will walk myself there,” she smoothed out the rejection with a smile.

Kassandra gave a deep bow, hands clasped behind her back. “As you wish,” she said, though failed to hide the tinge of disappointment in her voice. Her grin came back a second later. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

She sounded hopeful, almost like an overexcited puppy to Lara’s ears. She shook her head at her antics, chuckling softly. “Yes, probably.”

Kassandra nodded in quick succession, her whole face beaming. “Sleep well, Lara.”

The young woman nodded, opening her mouth to bid her goodbye when the cheetah approached her again. She stared as the animal sniffed her leg, purring softly.

“He likes you,” Kassandra noted with a hint of pride.

Lara’s eyes flickered towards her before she lifted her hand, running her fingers through the crown of his head. “I think he does?” she said, surprise seeping into her voice. The cheetah’s tongue lolled out, licking Lara’s fingertips. It was coarser than she imagined it to be.

“Come on, now,” the other woman laughed. “Be a good boy and leave her alone,” she flicked her hand, giving light taps on the leather of her  _pteryges’_ skirt.

The feline obeyed, turning around to stand by Kassandra. _“Chaire_.” she gave Lara a shy smile and another bow, not waiting for an answer before she mounted Phobos and trotted away.

-0-

 

It might have been a bit presumptuous, but Lara had expected Kassandra to be there when she came back. Instead, the room was plunged in darkness, undisturbed and it looked like it had been for a few hours.

She let out a tired breath, chastising her stupidly hopeless heart for thinking Kassandra would patiently wait to welcome her. Lara felt weird; restless with pent-up energy and the urge to talk to  _someone._ The young woman ended up spilling her guts to her journal, blackening its pages with the events of the night and a small sketch of the view from Thorikos.

After walking a hole in the small room and eating a meager late-night snack, she lay on the  _klinē’s_ silk-cushioned hardwood, her rest fitful until she heard the soft slapping sounds of someone passing through the window.

Her ears had adjusted to Kassandra’s breathing, walking and even climbing style over time. She felt her body relax at her presence, becoming aware of the light footsteps.

“The door wasn’t locked, you know.”

“ _Malá_ —”

Something heavy (a startled Kassandra) collided against one of the clay pots on the table. Lara heard it roll, then fall, though Kassandra managed to grab the pot before it shattered on the floor.

“You scared me!” she hissed lowly.

Lara shifted around on the couch to face her. The moonlight shined behind her cloaked and hooded figure, making her look a lot more imposing.

She squinted at the light, running a hand through her loose hair. “Sorry?”

Kassandra removed the mask but not her hood, gingerly putting the pot back where it was before she had slammed onto the table.

“You’re here,” she noted with a hint of surprise.

“Of course, I am,” Lara moved again, leaning her back against the wall. “Where would I be?”

Kassandra shrugged, bringing her the lapels of the cloak closer to her frame. “I wasn’t expecting you till morning,” she mumbled.

“Why would…” did she really think they would… a closer look at her stiff posture and tense shoulders told the archeologist that yes - yes, indeed, Kassandra had fully expected Lara to do just  _that._

“No!” she almost yelled. “No, no, no,” her arms flailed around wildly. “No. We just talked.”

“Talked?”

She didn’t know if the incredulity in Kassandra’s tone was credited to the Eagle Bearer’s… restraint or Lara’s. Either way, it stung that Kassandra thought that she would jump in bed with the first person who showed interest, like some starved, hormonal teen. Who did she think Lara was?

“Talked,” she repeated, not hiding the edge in her voice.

Kassandra didn’t notice, or maybe she didn’t care. She nodded once, dragging a chair before sitting sluggishly on it. Her movements were slow, exhausted. Lara squinted, but she couldn’t quite make out her features.

“Are you alright?”

Kassandra stood up, mumbling a quiet hum before she walked to the water pot near the door. That part of the room was covered in complete darkness, preventing the archeologist from seeing anything.

“Where were you?” she tried again, when Kassandra removed her cloak.

“Busy.”

She leaned over the pot, splashing and scrubbing her face with her hands. Lara pursed her lips, Kassandra hadn’t been that dismissive in a very, very long time. Something was wrong.

“Kassandra,” she said softly, reigning in the instinct to get up and walk to the woman. “What happened?”

Silence hung between them for a while, only disturbed by the water’s burble and quiet drops of water on hardwood. She straightened, dabbing her face with a cloth before she removed her cloak and worked on untying the armor.

“I took care of a few Cultists,” her voice was dull. “That’s all.”

That wasn’t all, and they both knew it. Kassandra was shutting her out and refused to talk, for some reason. Lara racked her brain, trying to understand her sudden mood shift. If it wasn’t the archeologist, then…

“Your brother?” she saw Kassandra’s shoulders stiffen again, heard her breath itch in her throat. “Is he here?” Lara dared.

The woman shook her head. “Not yet.”

She had swapped her leather linothorax for a metal one with a purple shawl, Lara remarked. It gleamed, even in the near-darkness of the room. Too bright to be bronze.  _Silver…_ her mind connected the dots quickly.

“What did you find?” Lara crawled out of the covers, taking the few steps that separated them. “What did you find in the Cultist camp?” she repeated, when Kassandra refused to answer.

The woman was chewing on her inner cheek, her mouth was probably bloody. “A letter,” her voice a low, rumbling with restrained anger. She turned her head towards Lara, guided by her gentle touch. Her eyes were a deep amber, swirling with barely contained rage. “An order of execution from the Ghost to Deimos,” she gritted out.

The Ghost, Kassandra hadn’t revealed their identity yet, only giving nebulous details to Lara. An Athenian waddling in the high spheres of society. Every time the young woman had tried to fish for more information, the answer had been the same: hunting the Ghost wasn’t their prerogative. They were to help the Eagle Bearer in her quest, and that was it. Kassandra would figure out who the Cult’s leader was on her own.

“To kill someone you know…” Lara deducted, feeling her own anger boiling within.

Kassandra let out a shaky breath, nodding meekly. “I didn’t know who…” her voice broke, she lifted her head, blinking at the ceiling and tried again. “I didn’t know who had ordered it the first time,” her hands fell at her sides, balling into fists. “But it was her handwriting…” Kassandra closed her eyes, her whole body shaking. “She lied to me,” she growled. “She lied to me and I believed her.”

 

…

The journey from Chios to Delphi is fast. Kassandra blinks and there she is, feet walking with purpose towards the Cult’s lair just as the sun rises.

Aspasia won’t see twilight.

The temple underneath is empty, Kassandra follows the stairs burrowing deeper into the cave. The guards that had flanked each door were nowhere to be seen, the worshippers had met Charon at the tip of her spear. Each and every single one of them.

Even her own brother.

But Kassandra doesn’t want to think about him, of Myrinne’s anguish and ashen eyes, of his frozen, pallid face. Of the cry for help underneath his foolish, misplaced anger.

Aspasia will pay for that, too. For everything.

Her footsteps are loud in this deliberate way. Kassandra doesn’t want to be discreet; she isn’t a predator stalking her prey. She wants Aspasia to know she is here, wants her to feel and hear the inevitability of her fate - like the black smoke rising of a blazing fire, thick, potent and stifling.

Death, at Kassandra’s spear, like all the others.

Even her own brother.

The cave is empty, bathed in the orange glow of the pyramid in the middle. It stands idle, like an affront. Her fingers itch, it calls to her but all she wants is to destroy the fucking thing. Like it destroyed her and her family.

It calls, her hand stretches before she can stop it. Flashing before her eyes are visions of faces, people, herself, Pythagoras prattling about things that don’t make sense. Chaos; Order... Kassandra doesn’t want to think about them, those are to be revisited later, when her anger is sated. When the call for revenge becomes a whisper. What she wants now is blood.

Aspasia’s blood.

“You’ve seen it too, then?” her voice is grating, she moves leisurely, like the snake she is. Kassandra peers to the side. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

She sneers, barely. Aspasia has to think she’s won. Kassandra plays along, pretends to be surprised, talks and argues her points halfheartedly — she had known, on the second day of Iokaste’s torturous death, Kassandra had known. The Daughter, the traitor to her kin, the impostor, the nonbeliever had revealed the Ghost’s identity in the same breath she had spilled her guts. With tears of blood, and begging to be put out of her misery.

It’s almost too easy. Here she was, the woman who had taught rhetoric to Sokrates, the silver tongue of silver tongues, lying her teeth out. Every inquiry has its answer.

Alexios’ abduction?

It was before she became the Ghost.

Perikles’ death?

Something that should never have happened. All she ever did was to protect him.

The Cult never wanted Kassandra’s death. The Cult  _worshipped_ her and her bloodline.

(Kassandra almost laughs.)

Each of her lies add up like a web, like the sweet shanties of sirens, and Kassandra is losing patience, but she keeps her face in check. Aspasia tells her to let go of everything she knows, to just  _imagine. Imagine_ the possibilities, the power, in the palms of their hands. Together.

To be worshipped, like the Goddess she is.

(Kassandra is tired. Kassandra doesn’t want to be worshipped; she wants to rest. Close her eyes and sleep for a thousand years.)

“What about Phoibe,” she interrupts her diatribe, inching closer. “Did you kill her?”

Aspasia’s eyes lose their light, her face falls, her words stripped of their intensity. Kassandra is surprised to see guilt and remorse. “No,” the woman answers. “It wasn’t me—”

She doesn’t want to believe her.

“Four men, Aspasia,” she cuts her off again, growling. “Four grown men surrounded her. One child.”

“You have to believe me,” her voice loses its edge. It’s not soft, it’s raw, emotional. True. “I loved Phoibe, I would never…”

She loves but herself.

(Kassandra doesn’t want to believe her, and yet…)

“I didn’t do it, Kassandra,” she pleads, eyes taking on a watery shine. “The chaos in Athens I… I had no knowledge of—Kleon…” Kassandra’s sneer is instant when she utters the cursed name. “Kleon gave the order, I only found out after we fled. You have to believe me,” she says again.

Right then, it’s not Aspasia she sees. Not Perikles’ consort, not the silver tongue of silver tongues, but a woman who had aged beyond her years. One who had bitten off more than she could chew. One who had lost too much in a war she couldn’t control. Her son, her status, her husband, her influence.

Stripped of her power, Aspasia was nothing. A  _silphe_ scurrying away from the light.

“You have to believe me,” she falls to her knees, muttering like a mantra. “I would never have hurt Phoibe,” her voice breaks, tears seeping through her eyelids. “Not after my son…”

The pain is raw underneath her words, the anguish genuine when her gaze meets Kassandra’s steely one. Aspasia’s face doesn’t move when she says, “Kill me,” the light in her eyes resolute. “If you don’t believe me, then kill me. Let me reunite with the family I have lost.”

The family she had sacrificed, for a greater purpose. Greater than her own life.

Kassandra sees it then, death would be solace.

The solace Aspasia doesn’t deserve, even if it’s Tartaros that awaits her.

She glares, and in the haze of her fury, spits in her face. “Fuck you,” Kassandra snarls.

A thousand words she wants to say, a million curses, she itches to claw Aspasia’s eyes out and feed them back to her. Her mouth bleeds with anger. “If we cross paths ever again…” she says, crouching and yanking Aspasia’s diadem. “You will end the way Iokaste did.”

-0-

 

Lara’s face remained unnervingly impassive when Kassandra spoke, revealing what had happened after Alexios’ death, after Chios, and then Delphi. Aspasia. Phoibe.

“I thought maybe…” her voice had lost its edge, words coming raspier and weary. “Maybe she had told the truth, after all,” she blinked at her folded hands. “A part of me wanted to believe it. She’d lost a child, a family, she…”  Lara reached out then, fingers curling around hers and squeezing. “I was so tired,” the first tear was a surprise. “So tired of killing I just—” a hiccup spilled out of her mouth.

She had been played, Aspasia had planted the seed of doubt, daring her to do what she had come to do, only to have Kassandra spare her life out of spite.

“Hey,” Lara squeezed her hand again, running her palm up Kassandra’s arm to reach her cheek. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered when their eyes met. “None of this was.”

Kassandra could feel more tears coming up, sobs gathering at the back of her throat, inevitable no matter how hard she swallowed. “I should have known—” words lodged in her throat, bruising on their way out when her body started shaking. “I should have kil—killed, avenged Phoi-Phoibe, I should ha—”

“Shh,” Lara gathered her in a hug, bringing Kassandra’s tear-streaked face above her beating heart, curling herself around the woman, to shield her from grief. “Shh,” rocking back and forth when Kassandra’s quiet sobs overwhelmed her. “Let it out,” she kept whispering. “Let it out.”

Kassandra wailed. Without a care of whom could hear, she wept until her eyes dried shut. When tears refused to fall, she screamed and howled in the crook of Lara’s neck, clutching her in a bruising grip till her throat was too sore and all that came out were muffled shrieks of anguish. Lara didn’t let go. She whispered soothing words on her skin, weathered it all for however long it took - sure arms wrapped protectively around Kassandra, hair like a curtain, shielding her from the world.

Lara didn’t let go, not even when Kassandra’s exhausted body and delirious mind finally shut down, in the wee hours of the morning.

It was the orange hue on her eyelids that made Kassandra stir, the following day. One hazel eye cracking open at the bright sunlight.

She groaned, her mouth felt like cotton, lips chapped dry and stuck to the fabric underneath the side of her face. Rays filtered through dark shadows, as she took a breath, and a pleasant scent caressed her nostrils. Kassandra cocked her head, burrowing deeper into its source. Her brows furrowed as the fog of sleep dissipated, and she became gradually aware of three things:

Her left leg was trapped, knee locked under something unmoving.  

Fine strands of hair were tickling her cheek in the most annoying way.

One hand was sprawled on her upper thigh, and it was definitely not hers.

She tensed, getting an eyeful of Lara’s nearly exposed chest when her brain awoke from its slumber. Kassandra held her breath, moving her head away from the young woman’s chest as slowly as she dared. Her hand was lying flat on the archeologist’s stomach, dangerously close to the swell of her breast, underneath the cropped chiton. She took it out in slow motion, careful not to make any sudden movement despite the raging storm inside of her. Kassandra brought it up, dragging Lara’s shirt, ever so slowly, to cover her upper body.

 _Crisis averted_ … she breathed in relief, realizing her mistake only when the body beneath hers stirred in response.

She froze again. Lara mumbled something unintelligible, locking Kassandra’s right ankle with hers (how in the name of Hades had they gotten so  _tangled?_ ), before letting out a contented sigh.

Kassandra counted backwards from fifty, and when Lara didn’t stir again, she closed her eyes and tried to think. There was no way to get out of this without waking her up. She had no recollection of falling asleep, and the sobbing in Lara’s arms was already mortifying in itself.

There was no way to pretend last night hadn’t happened. If the archeologist woke up and didn’t run up the hills after her mental breakdown, Kassandra would consider it an accomplishment.

Finding herself between a rock and a hard place, the woman attempted to move again, raising her hips in slow motion—

“Stay,” she heard distinctly, this time.

Kassandra froze again, holding her breath for a second. The fingers on her leg drummed, before disappearing. Lara’s hand travelled up and burrowed itself in her hair to massage her scalp.

“Stay,” she muttered for the third time, voice scratchy misuse.

Kassandra considered pretending to be asleep for a fleeting moment but disregarded the idea right away. She didn’t want to lie to Lara. “How long have you been awake?”

Tremors rippled through Kassandra when the archeologist cleared her throat. “A little while?”

That was polite talk for hours; the woman mused, coming to the conclusion that Lara probably hadn’t slept at all. “I’m sorry,” she said, softly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Lara didn’t stop her motions but shifted a little. “No talking right now,” she mumbled, moving her foot, freeing the woman’s ankle but keeping her leg above Kassandra’s.

Okay.

No talking, yeah… she could do that.

Kassandra decided to cherish the reprieve for as long as it would last. Lying there, in Lara’s arms almost felt like she was floating. The woman found herself unconsciously trying to match Lara’s slow breathing, her eyes drooped, drifting in and out of slumber. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this. 

“I’m not crushing you, am I?” Kassandra asked, wriggling a little, suddenly very aware that her full weight rested on top Lara and the poor woman probably had trouble taking deep breaths.

She felt the body underneath her jerk a little, the archeologist had been dozing off too, her limp hand still buried in brown strands of hair. “No,” she paused for a beat. “Kassandra?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

She blinked several times, surprised at the injunction. Her lips stretched in a smile, one that Kassandra hid in the crook of Lara’s neck.

“Okay,” she whispered in her skin before closing her eyes again.

* * *

Lara dragged herself through lively, bubbly Athens, feeling sluggish, each step slower than the other. She was alone, having left Kassandra in their room after informing the other woman of her upcoming meeting with the Eagle Bearer.

Kassandra had only nodded and told her to enjoy the city while they were here. Lara hadn’t dared to ask her what she would be doing in the meantime, but she had a hunch it involved more Cultist hunting. Maybe she would stand guard at the Ghost’s home.

_Aspasia…_

History had never been keen on remembering and celebrating the women of Ancient Greece, but Aspasia had been one of the few Lara had read about. There had always been an air of mystery about her; little information, no date of death, always described through the scope of the men she had helped rise to power. Her own accomplishments had been overshadowed by the more famous men who had leeched off of her teachings and used intellect to serve their own purposes. 

The archeologist had always put this biased oversight on researchers themselves, but with the description Kassandra had given her of the woman, Lara was inclined to think that it had been all intentional.

Hell, Aspasia wasn’t even her real name, to begin with.

Lara had no idea what she would do if she met her. The thought alone was filling her with so much rage, remembering Kassandra’s anguish. Would she be able to keep her anger at bay?

Those thoughts kept circling around in her head and Lara let out a tired sigh, squinting up at the sky. An eagle was flying in circles above her. The woman threaded her way through the busy streets of upper Athens, trying her best not to stop and gawk every few steps. The music was the most surprising part of her discoveries; bards at every corner were fiddling their fingers on a  _sambyke’_ s strings, a wreath of flowers on their heads while small crowds of passersby cheered them on or swayed in rhythm and hummed along to the tune. Her bleary eyes kept drifting towards the Parthenon up the hill, drawn to the monument like a magnet.

Perikles’ wonder. His gift to Athens and the Greek world.

No matter her exhaustion, she would see it today, the archeologist decided. Even if she had to drag herself there.

Lara weaved through the crowd, hearing a piercing shriek before the feathery blur that had been following her flew overhead to land on Hera’s marbled head a few meters away. The eagle glared and she glared right back. It was Kassandra’s, no doubt about it, she recognized his old-man stare.

“You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you,” she mumbled in English, watching him fluff the feathers on his chest.

He squawked again, stretching both of his wings, throwing her what she could only interpret as a look of pure disdain.

“I hope that wasn’t an insult,” Kassandra’s cheerful voice sounded behind the archeologist. “Ikaros is very susceptible.”

Lara’s shoulders stiffened on instinct. How on Earth could they  _both_ sneak up on her like this? She veered around, coming face to face with a megawatt smile and twinkling eyes. “I know that,” the words came out before she could stop them. “I guessed,” Lara added quickly, scrambling to come up with an explanation when she noticed the confused crease on Kassandra’s face. “He reminds me of someone I know,” her hands moved towards him limply. “Same disapproving frowny eyes.”

Kassandra grinned. “Your pater?”

Lara internally sighed in relief. She shook her head, lips tugging up at the thought of Winston. “Close, but no,” although he’d had as much a hand in raising her as her own parents. Especially after Amelia’s passing.

The other woman walked towards the statue, stretching her arm for the eagle to hop on. “Hear that, Ikaros?” she cooed. “Stop being a frowny bird.”

His beak opened soundlessly, wings flapping in the air, before he dug his talons on Kassandra’s leather gauntlet and took flight. She followed his ascent, squinting up at the clouds where he soared.

“He is definitely offended,” Kassandra noted with a hint of humor.

Lara looked at her while the other woman stared up. She wasn’t wearing a helmet today, forgoing the gold and red armor for leather gauntlets and shoulder straps that revealed a grey chiton underneath. Despite the deceptively casual lighter gear, Kassandra’s weapons were on full display on her back.

Honed by years of being a mercenary, this sent a clear message: she wasn’t looking for a fight, but she was ready, should the occasion arise.

Lara frowned, noticing the red rivulets tickling down her thumb. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” Kassandra’s head whipped down from the sky, confused as she lowered her gaze to her hand. “Oh,” and shook it. “He didn’t mean to do that,” Kassandra put pressure on the indentations Ikaros had dug. She lifted her eyes, eyes twinkling with her smile. “It will heal. I’ve had worse.”

That’s what her older self had said after smashing her way through mirrors barehanded, on Thera.

 _What is wrong with you?_ Lara chastised in her head, rolling her eyes before approaching the misthios. “Show me your arm,” better take care of this before the plague hits. An untreated cut could get infected.

Kassandra tilted her head, her smile stretching into nervous territory. “I’ll be fine.”

The young woman didn’t listen, turning Kassandra’s forearm up to untie the gauntlet with practiced movements. Revealing her bruised wrist and bloody cuts, Lara fetched the  _sideritis_ ointment she kept in her belt satchel. “It will burn,” she said with her head down before spreading the dark mixture.

Kassandra puffed, still puzzled by the whole situation. “I know—” she still hissed, wrist trembling at the sensation but didn’t pull away.

Lara made a quick work of bandaging her hand and tightening the gauntlet back in place.

“Like that, you won’t lose your thumb,” she said, noticing Kassandra’s flabbergasted expression.

The surprise didn’t last long, she flashed another of her mischievous smirks. “That would be  _very_ unfortunate.”

Lara’s sleep-deprived brain took a few seconds to process the remark. She squinted at Kassandra.

It was hard to imagine this was the same woman she’d had wrapped in her arms only a few hours ago. The same woman whose comforting weight and regular breathing had made Lara feel safe in her restless slumber, bold enough to ask her to stay like this when Kassandra had woken up, mortified by their predicament. She had wanted nothing but to bury her nose in Kassandra’s hair and drop a kiss there.

“Is there something on my face?”

Lara blinked slowly, drawn out of her thoughts by the uncannily similar voice that had been occupying her head. “What?”

The misthios shook her head, gesturing for Lara to follow her through the street.

“You look tired,” Kassandra observed her from the corner of her eye, after a few minutes of silence.

Fully agreeing with the misthios, Lara’s body stabbed her in the back, forcing her mouth open in the loudest yawn possible. She nodded a moment later. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Still groggy and unguarded, Lara had walked right into that one. Kassandra’s lips stretched in another of her mischievous smirks, eyes sparkling knowingly.

“Was it because of me?”

 _It was exactly because of you_ , her mind answered.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Eagle Bearer,” Lara settled on. 

Kassandra tilted her head, visibly amused. “You are fiercer, when you don’t sleep.”

 _Just a regular Brit_ , Lara wanted to say. She hadn’t even had her morning tea, now that she was thinking about it.

The other woman took two large steps, getting ahead of her before pivoting around on her sandals and walking backwards, facing the archeologist as she proclaimed, “I, for one, thought of you,” with a proud nod. 

Lara had absolutely no idea what to say to her. She was even too tired for her knee-jerk reaction of awkward stammering to kick in.

She blinked at Kassandra a couple of times. “Okay.”

The woman didn’t let her apparent lethargy sour her mood and smiled even brighter, pointing upwards. “Let’s go to the Acropolis.”

Finally, something they could agree on. Lara nodded, trying to keep the excitement off her face and the bounce off her steps as they trekked up the stairs flanked by humongous colored statues.   

“As I live and breathe, Kassandra of House Agiad walking alongside Aphrodite herself,” a blond man in a purple peplos stalked towards them when they reached the Acropolis’ gate.

He was lithe and slender, but definitely muscular. His smothering blue eyes bore into Lara’s, scratching and teasing at her very soul. She froze.

“I am so jealous,” he said, casually running his fingers down her arm, before turning towards the other woman. “Where do you find them, misthios?”

Kassandra seemed completely unaffected by the sexual energy radiating off of the man. She shrugged casually. “In the wild, mostly.”

“The wild,” he repeated, eyeing Lara with ravenous hunger. “Perhaps I should leave politics and wander the forests…” his voice trailed off. “To find such a delicious… creature for myself.”

Every fiber of Lara’s rational brain was screaming offense. The rest of her mind was absolutely entranced by the man’s features.  

Thankfully, Kassandra came to her rescue. “You can lay off the charm, Alkibiades.”

“Oh, but I am just warming up…”

Their silent exchange only lasted a few seconds before his seductive smile turned more genuine, breaking the archeologist’s trance. He gave Lara a deep bow.

 _Alkibiades…_ her mouth hung open.

“I thought  _I_ was your favorite?”  Kassandra quipped, drawing all his sexual attention back to her, to Lara’s relief.

He lifted his hand, pointing. “You will always be my favorite  _misthios,_ ” Alkibiades drawled, turning to Lara again. “But the world is vast, full of wonders…” he winked. “And forbidden fruits I would love to sink my teeth in… among other things.”

In other circumstances, this would have been gag-inducing. Lara flushed bright red, cursing his hypnotic aura. The archeologist had always thought the descriptions to be overly exaggerated. The Greeks were fond of hyperboles, after all. Standing there, weathering the charms of Alkibiades himself, she understood why he’d gotten away with so much in life.

This man was beauty incarnate.

Kassandra quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t you have a goat waiting for you somewhere? An orgy, maybe?”

The comments didn’t seem to faze him, the man let out a hearty, if not melodious laugh, turning back towards Kassandra. “Jealous?”

“Very,” she deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Alkibiades hummed, giving her a long look before shaking his head. “I do have matters of importance to attend, sadly,” his eyes flickered towards Lara, then back at Kassandra. “Bring your… friend to the symposium tomorrow night,” he grinned with all his teeth. “It would bring me great pleasure to see her again.”

Alkibiades gave them another deep bow, walking away leisurely as the fog of lust he had brought with him dissipated and Lara regained more brain functions. She still couldn’t believe it. Alkibiades in the flesh.

 _No gawking…_ she could hear Kassandra’s terse voice in her head, her stern command raining on her like an ice-cold shower.

“Don’t mind him,” the Eagle Bearer said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “He will jump on anything with a pulse.”

 _So I’ve read,_ Lara nodded. “He is…” she trailed off, looking for the right word to describe him.

“Pretty?” Kassandra finished for her. “Very pretty.”

Lara chuckled. “That, too.”

She turned around, looking at the gate again, the archeologist hadn’t had time to admire it before her surreal encounter. “Magnificent…” she muttered in English, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand to squint at the fresco above the entrance.

Lara took a few steps back, standing at the edge of the stairs to have a better view, making a mental list of things she wanted to write down in her journal.

“I take it you like what you see,” Kassandra joined her a few moments later.

That was the understatement of the century.

“Yes,” she beamed at her. “It’s beautiful.”

Kassandra followed her gaze towards the fresco. “Extravagant, I would say.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong, but… “Wasn’t that the point?” Lara stated, and Kassandra looked back at her, frowning slightly. “To be the focus of the Gods? Be remembered?”

Kassandra’s lips pursed, shoulders rising in a slow shrug. “The Gods don’t care. This,” she said, gesturing to their surroundings. “Everything you see here is the vanity of men. Nothing else.”

Lara was a little surprised by her acerbic response. The Kassandra she knew had always spoken fondly of this. Then again, she had seen the ravage of time firsthand, maybe the duty to remember had won over her initial cynicism.    

“You seem to know a lot about our Gods and customs,” the misthios mused out loud. “For a foreigner.”

_Crap._

Lara smacked her lips, averting Kassandra’s curious gaze. “My… uh, my parents,” she looked up, keeping the tremors off her voice. “I told you, they were scholars. They taught me. Taught me a lot about these things.”

Kassandra nodded, tapping her chin lightly. “Were they like Herodotos?”

“Exactly like Herodotos,” Lara agreed, before frowning. “Wait, how do you know him?”

Kassandra looked at her like she didn’t understand the question. “Because he’s on my ship?”

The archeologist had a moment of pause, blinking rapidly as the last part of the puzzle revealed itself and everything clicked together. Her research, Kassandra’s wary looks in Sparta when Lara fussed over the map on the wall; inching closer and closer to the truth.

 _“What if Herodotos had met the Eagle Bearer?”_ she’d asked one night, slouching on the couch after yet another unfruitful day of research.

Kassandra had looked up from her translation, snorted and stared at Lara like she was tripping. _“He would have written about him, wouldn’t he?”_ her reply had been dry, irony dripping from her words as she added, _“Such a grand warrior would have had a place in his book.”_

The nerve of this bloody woman!

He’d been there all along! The archeologist was  _right!_

“Lara?”

“What,” she snapped, tone clipped like barbed wire, still reeling at having been played like a sodding fiddle.  

The woman raised her hands slowly, even taking a step back. “You seem upset.”

Of- _bloody-_ course, she was upset. Lara was foaming at the mouth. She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, to take the situation into perspective. Kassandra had been trying to hide her identity, to protect herself... It made sense. Sure, this would have spared the archeologist a great many nights and frustrating hours of pouring over _Histories_ , but...

The researcher in her was still stomping her feet, calling for Kassandra’s blood. The more rational part understood why the woman hadn’t said anything.

“I’m fine,” she took another breath, feeling the tension ebb from her limbs. “Sorry.”

Kassandra gave her a small smile, motioning for the archeologist to follow inside the temple. She left Lara to roam the building, content to follow and answer a few questions.

* * *

In other circumstances, Kassandra might have been bored. Surprisingly enough, Lara — what a pretty name, it rolled so easily around her tongue, she mused again — turned out to be as entertaining as she was mysterious.

The princess that didn’t speak her name, fighter like no other, able to summon flames by sheer will, and yet, marveling at a heap of rocks like they were the second coming of Zeus himself.

What a strange woman...

“How long did it take to make this?” she pointed at the intricate sewing system that transported water to and from the public baths.

“Probably a few decades,” Kassandra replied, feeling herself smile at the wonder etched in Lara’s face.

She mumbled something in that obscure language of hers again, before adding, “It’s brilliant.”

“You don’t have those where you’re from?” Kassandra asked as they walked all the way back to the agora.

The sun was beginning its descent, the light breeze of the day picking up again. She saw Lara freeze again, biting her lip in thought.

“Not as advanced.”

This sounded very much like a lie for some reason. For the life of her, Kassandra couldn’t figure out why the woman would be lying about this. And yet...

“I see,” her reply was plain, holding none of her own interrogations. Maybe she would ask her about that another time, when her guard had mellowed.

The agora was emptying, merchants slowly packing up for the day while singers and musicians chugged down a few cups before hollering again. Night would be falling soon.

Lara opened her mouth, but a commotion nearby cut her off before she could speak. Both women turned towards the gathering crowd, hands on their weapons.

The telltale roar of a cheetah echoed, Kassandra reacted quickly, running and pushing people aside, Lara following behind her.

“I’m sorry!” a man was on the ground, sprawled on broken planks of wood. “I-I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” he scrambled backwards, eyeing the snarling cheetah stalking towards him.

It was Kassandra’s, alright. She would recognize his crooked tail anywhere.

“Call it back!” the man pleaded, his teary eyes flickering between the hissing animal and the cloaked figure behind it. “I won’t do it again, I promise! I promise, please don’t let it eat me!”

Masked and chained. That was definitely Lara’s... friend. With _Kassandra’s_ cheetah. She watched in wonder as the cloaked woman grabbed the man, dragging him by his chiton towards a small gathering of kids. She threw him to the ground, kicked him in the back to force him down before gesturing back and forth with brusque movements.

He nodded, shaking like a leaf as he undid the ties of his pouch before throwing it at the foot of a distraught teenager with torn-off clothes.

Kassandra gasped, realizing who it was. “Phoibe?” she walked to her, not hearing Lara’s telling her to wait. “Phoibe!” she called.

The other woman turned around, tensing. She dodged Kassandra’s hand in a blink, jumping to stand a few feet away.

“What happened?" she growled. Her frustration rose when she received no answer. “Talk!”

The man lifted his head, trying to speak through the blubbering mess of tears and snot, wailing and curling into himself when Lara’s sla— _friend_ kicked him back to the ground.

The teenager threw herself in Kassandra’s arms, body rocking with tremors. She hissed when Kassandra’s hand brushed her shoulder blades. The woman frowned, fingers coming out bloody.

She crouched, taking Phoibe’s tear streaked face in her palm. “Turn around,” her voice was soft as she guided her. “Show me.”

Lara gasped behind them. She could count four gashes, one of them deep enough to keep bleeding. Her hand rose up, coming close to Phoibe’s scarred back but not touching it.

Kassandra’s jaw clenched with rage.

_Flogged like an animal..._

“What happened,” she turned her head, eyes burning a deep amber as they flickered between the man knocked out cold on the ground and Lara’s stoic friend.

The woman stood idle, not uttering a word, and the fire pit of anger boiled even livelier inside Kassandra. “What. Happened,” she shot to her feet, approaching the _slave_ when it became obvious she wouldn’t get any information by asking nicely. “Why is Phoibe like this?” another step forward. She was close enough to see the speck of amber doting the woman’s eyes behind her mask.

Still no answer.

“Back off,” Lara inserted herself between them, forcing her to stand a few steps away. “Kassandra, step back. Right now,” she glared.

Kassandra’s nostrils flared, her eyes boring a scorching hole between Lara and her slave. “Talk to her,” she ordered, waving her hand briskly. “Ask her what happened!”

Despite their height difference and bulk, the young woman’s glower could have made her pause, had she not been so enraged. Lara turned her head, mumbling something Kassandra couldn’t understand. The slave nodded, walking back a few steps.

_Oh, no you’re not leaving..._

“That maláka isn’t going anywhere before I get answers!” she hollered, trying to bypass Lara to get to her, but the other woman kept standing in the way to shove her backwards.

“Kassandra, stop!” Phoibe shrieked, halting her third attempt to slither past Lara. “She helped me,” the teen stood between them, tugging on Kassandra’s chiton and pulling her away with her lithe arms. “She helped me!”

Phoibe turned to Lara and her slave, then back at Kassandra’s frozen form. “He said I stole from him, it’s not true,” she shook her head. “I didn’t steal anything, I swear! But he didn’t listen,” her small shoulders started to shake, “And he…” Phoibe closed her eyes, breathing shakily. “It hurt.”

Kassandra lowered herself to the ground, inching closer to wrap her in a comforting hug.

“She took the last one,” Phoibe continued in the crook of her neck. “And she beat him with the whip,” tears were still falling down her cheeks. “She saved me, Kassandra. She did.”

The woman nodded, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She should have been there, she should have. Chancing a look behind them, Kassandra noticed the man was still unconscious and glared, gritting her teeth; fingers itching to bash his head into a pulp. Pulling away, she took the time to observe Phoibe’s disheveled appearance, removing the strands of hair that obscured her vision. “I told you to stay out of trouble,” her voice broke as she thumbed away the girl’s tears, her own eyes brimming. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

Phoibe broke down, weeping and burrowing her little frame in Kassandra’s arms. She blinked the blurriness away and looked up to see Lara standing near her slave, a few meters away. It was innocuous enough, yet Kassandra noticed it right away; the tension underneath that cloak, radiating from her like thunderbolts. The pull, as if she wanted to move, to come closer, but Lara was holding her hand in a vice grip and refusing to let go.

“Thank you,” Kassandra mouthed at them, receiving a nod from Lara and nothing from the other. Dropping a kiss on Phoibe’s hair, she said, “Let’s bring you to Hippokrates.”

The teen sniffled. “But Aspasia…”

“Fuck Aspasia,” Kassandra growled, anger boiling anew. “She shouldn’t send you alone at night to run her errands.”

She shouldn’t have sent her, period. Kassandra was going to have a few words with her later.

Something seemed to pass between Lara and her friend at those words. From the corner of her eye, Kassandra could see them sharing a look, before the cloaked woman tilted her head, pointing back at them.

 _“Are you sure?”_ she heard Lara say. Her slave nodded, letting go of her hand. “ _And your arm...”_

Kassandra couldn’t understand a word, but it was the genuine worry on Lara’s person that made her pause. This wasn’t how masters usually talked to their slaves… or even friends.

 _“Will you be okay?”_ Lara’s hand travelled to the open gash left by the whip that had torn the cloak’s sleeve. Kassandra saw the slave nod again, leaning over her ear to whisper a few words, but she was too far away to hear them.

 _“Alright,"_ she heard then, and whatever that meant it seemed to placate Lara enough to allow the other woman to walk away on her own and disappear in a narrow alley.

Kassandra let out a shuddering breath, rising to her feet slowly. “Can you walk?” she asked Phoibe, and Lara joined them.

The girl sniffled again, giving her a weak shake. The cheetah nudged at her arm, forcing his head under her pit to lick at her face. A wet laugh-sob spilled out of her mouth. “It tickles!”

The animal purred softly, letting Phoibe hold onto his fur for support. Kassandra’s heart squeezed with sorrow when she saw her wince with the effort it took her to stand up. Hazel eyes flickered to Lara.

“I’ll take your weapons,” the woman offered, walking closer to them. 

Kassandra’s eyes shined in gratitude, she nodded, taking off her bow, sword, and spear before wrapping them securely in their leather and giving everything to Lara. “Thank you.”

She crouched again, turning around. “Come on up.”

It would put less stress on the girl’s back.

Small arms circled her neck as Phoibe settled on her. Kassandra secured her legs, locking both hands underneath the teenager before she rose up again and walked outside of the agora, Phoibe on her back and Lara by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, ouch. This isn't where I envisioned this chapter to end but it was getting way too long. EagleBearer!Kass and Lara's pseudo-date was one of my favorite parts to write. I hope you enjoyed just as much as I did :)
> 
> Just a thing : Aspasia and Perikles’ son didn’t die an infant. He was executed in 406, about five to six years before her alleged death. So, he was an adult. Had to kill him earlier here, woops.
> 
> I know people ship Aspasia and Kassandra together, so my portrayal of her might clash with the general consensus, I’m sorry. I might have taken it literally when the game says the Ghost is a liar, and if you read the letters she sends the Sages, they’re all a variation of the same thing, she promises them all power if they betray their own. Whether her intention was to lure them and buy more time for Kassandra to eradicate the cult, or stemming from something more selfish, I made my choice. Sorry.
> 
> Myrrine's relationship with Kassandra always struck me as odd. There's obviously a lot of things left unsaid between them. Myrrine implying she's moved on from her life (in order to survive) and therefore doesn't know how to be a mother to Kass on Naxos is one of the most heartbreaking things to happen in the game. With Phoibe's death. 
> 
> I know Kass gets a flaming horse - and I'm sad you can't set people on fire when they're near you, what a missed opportunity - when you get on top of the mercenary foodchain, but it was hard to explain from a realistic perspective. So, that's why skinny Phobos gets extra buff here.
> 
> And yes Lara's name is derived from Ra the Sun God, it's canon from the Blood Ties DLC in Rise. There are letters of her father gushing about how she was conceived in Egypt. Lara is also the name of a nymph in Roman mythology, known for her beauty and inability to keep secrets, which.. well it describes Lara perfectly, too!
> 
> We'll be staying in Athens for a few chapters.


End file.
